


A Strange Affair

by Jammingjackelopes



Series: Affairs-Verse [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, M/M, Marriage, Mild Gore, Phone Sex, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada, Young Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 45,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8268980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jammingjackelopes/pseuds/Jammingjackelopes
Summary: The story of how Jesse McCree lost an arm but got something better in return. (Werewolf AU/young McHanzo)





	1. Part 1

Hanamura during the spring was altogether quite lovely, Jesse thinks to himself, even if the greeting wasn’t exactly the best. The sakura trees were in full bloom and the wind kept blowing carpets of petals all over the floor. Shimada Castle was littered pink with them.

The suited goons who greeted him at the door did a pat down and were thorough in their search, making him take off his scarf, his boots, and even took his cigarillo pack. Jesse grumbled when they confiscated Peacemaker. “You better keep that safe partner, or we’re gonna have words,” he tells the man. The Shimada guard doesn’t bother with a response. 

He’s escorted down the stone entryway into the main complex, and Jesse eyes all the open areas and large windows. How the hell would you defend a place like this when there were so many entry points? Better question: why was he even given this assignment? 

“Because I told you to,” Reyes had told him, no nonsense and taciturn as usual. Jesse had argued till he was blue in the face, that he doesn’t know a lick of Japanese, that he thinks he’d be better used for the upcoming strike in Dorado, his Spanish will get him places, and he doesn’t know jack shit about the Shimadas and would probably start a war.

Reyes withstood his complaints with a pained expression, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shut it and do as you’re told, ingrate.”

“Aw c’mon, boss,” Jesse had whined, acting more like his seventeen year old self when he just got picked out of the Deadlock Gang and not the twenty-five year old man he actually was. “I could name a few people off the top of my head who would do better.” 

“And how unfortunate it is for me that you’re one of the few I can trust to get this done,” Reyes snaps. Jesse’s mouth moves a bit, speechless, and closes with a click. “And let’s hope I never have to repeat that sentence again. Makes my mouth taste like ash.”

Jesse grinned, a wide shit-eating grin. Reyes sighed heavily and threw the docket at him. The mission was pretty simple: find out if the Shimada’s claims about omnic activity in the underground were true, or was it simply some kind of rival gang uprising with some omnic soldiers thrown in for the mix. If there was a god program, like Anubis, behind the scenes, then it would call for Overwatch interference. 

For now, however, there was no definite proof and Overwatch “helping” a well known crime organization like the Japanese yakuza would definitely not help with their public image. Even if said yakuza was semi-legal in Japan and had some support from the city they were based in. A lot of money was spent by the yakuza building schools and public shelters. But a criminal organization was still criminal even if they did good-will stuff for public image, which called for the services of Blackwatch.

Or rather a lone Blackwatch agent by the name of Jesse McCree; ingrate, sharpshooter, flirter, wolf. 

Reyes had made sure the door was closed and no one was around when he walked up to Jesse and put a gloved hand on his shoulder. “Your face and name isn’t associated with Overwatch, so even if someone got a whiff that you were there, it shouldn’t ring any bells.I’ve already talked to the master of the Shimada clan, and he understands that, in exchange for our help, they’ll keep any involvement of ours discrete. We have plenty of wiggle room to deny this if they try to drag this out in the light," he said. 

“There must have been something that made you think their claims were legit though if you’re sending me over to check it out,” Jesse said. 

Reyes nodded. “Read the docket, it’ll explain all. And another thing,” he says, as Jesse is about to open the door, “Do not transform. You hear me? I better not hear so much as a rumor that there’s a giant wolf-creature sighted in Japan.” 

“Aye aye boss man,” Jesse said. He walked out and Reyes had shut the door in his face. 

And now here he is, in mother fucking Japan, being led into a plain room, the floors covered in tatami mats, and a sliding door opening for him with a light swish. Even before the wooden doors slid open, Jesse was paying attention. He could hear two male voices, and it didn’t matter what language you were speaking for someone to understand that a disagreement was going on. Jesse heard one of the Shimada goons behind him tap his comm, probably to inform them of his arrival, and abruptly the argument halted. 

“Please have a seat,” the master of the Shimada clan says, and swept his hand towards the cushion laid out in front of the table. From the docket, Jesse recognizes the Shimada elder as Gotoh, and beside him his eldest son, the future heir of the Shimada-gumi, Hanzo. 

There were less photos available of the heir than the master of the Shimada Clan. Jesse was unprepared for how handsome and intense Hanzo was. Those blurry shots of him really did not do the real thing justice. 

Both Gotoh and Hanzo were kneeling in front of a low table where Jesse was expected to sit across. Not nearly flexible enough to sit on his legs, Jesse doesn’t bother and instead sprawls on the cushion cross-legged. 

He remembers some of the last minute “manners” drilled into his head right before his flight, however, and bows low to the both of them. “It is an honor to meet you Shimada-san,” he says. God, he hopes that’s right. Now he can’t remember if that was what he was told to do or if it was something he might’ve picked up from a film. _Shit._

Or maybe it is right because he sees Gotoh nod and Hanzo’s grim face relaxes a bit. Jesse tries not to stare. Not the time, stick to business, Jesse mentally chides himself. 

“I did not expect Overwatch to send someone so...young,” Gotoh says. “I was told we would be receiving an experienced agent.” Gotoh’s English was very good, with only a slight accent. 

“Aye, I might look young,” Jesse says, “but I daresay I have more experience than many above my years. They ain’t wrong to send me.”

From the corner of his vision Jesse sees Hanzo’s face tighten again like he bit into a lemon wedge. “But we ain’t here to talk about my age,” Jesse says. “ Let’s get down to business.”

If Gotoh had any further doubts, he did not voice it. “We believe that there may be the stirrings of omnic activity in our territory. As you are already aware, Hanamura is fully under Shimada-gumi control, and unlike burgeoning Numbani, any omnic presence here is minimal if altogether non-existent. Which makes the footage of the attack all the more concerning,” he says.

Jesse recalls the docket with the video file. Apparently there had been a few hits to the Shimada clan’s weapon shipments, and after the first two, which caught them completely by surprise, they were prepared for the next. The first couple of attacks showed no evidence of who was responsible. On the most recent attack, however, a brief clip from a wayward surveillance camera showed what looked like a group of omnics taking out Shimada goons, and the video ended there, presumably because the camera was destroyed. 

“We have yet to find the remains of our men, which is more concerning than the stolen shipments,” Gotoh says. “Whoever, or whatever, is behind this must be stopped. But I understand that you are here primarily to investigate first to see if there are any truths to our claims.”

“Got it in one,” Jesse says, not the type to beat around the bush. “If there are sure signs that there may be some kind of omnic uprising going on, then the big boys will be called in to clean up the mess. In the meantime, however, it’s just gonna be lil’ ole me. I hope we can uncover the truth behind this soon.” 

“I, too,” Gotoh says. He nods to Hanzo. “My son, Hanzo, will be assisting you in your investigation.” 

“I look forward to working with you Agent McCree,” Hanzo says and gives a slight bow of his head. Jesse doesn’t need super senses to tell that Hanzo was lying through his pretty teeth, however impassive he schooled his expression might be. Hanzo seemed readier to chuck him out onto his ass than to be working with him. 

Hanzo and Gotoh smoothly stand, and Jesse hastily stands too. “I will show you to your accommodations,” Hanzo says, and leads him out. What a strangely abrupt dismissal. The guards open the door as they approach and close it again behind them. No one else follows them through the hallway.

“Hey, Shimada-san,” Jesse says, “when can I have my weapon back? My side is feelin’ awful lonely without her on me.” 

“It has already been placed in your room,” Hanzo replies, not bothering to look back or engage in any kind of small talk. They walk quietly through the huge complex and twisting hallways with its sharp turns before Jesse gives voice to the thoughts eating at him.

“Is it going to be a problem working with me?” Jesse asks. That gives Hanzo a pause, and he turns around to eye Jesse. He looks Jesse up and down, taking in the loud boots, the bright red scarf, and his sheriff hat. 

“What gives you that idea?” Hanzo says. Hanzo must’ve perfected the art of sarcasm, because it sure as hell didn’t sound like it even though Jesse was pretty damn sure it was.

“You know,” Jesse growls, flapping his hand a bit. “I’m just as eager to be out of your hair as you are out of mine, but the fact is I got a job to do darlin’ and I intend to do it right. Now it’d be much easier to do that if we could communicate like normal people do.” 

“I am not your 'darlin',” Hanzo hisses, stepping right into Jesse’s space. Hanzo was half a head shorter and had to look up to meet Jesse’s gaze, “And we are not normal people.” 

“Still don’t change the fact that we gotta be working together, and it’d sure be nice if someone as pretty as you won’t be looking to take my head off at any moment,” Jesse says. And because he is Jesse McCree and doesn’t know when to stop and keep his flapping mouth shut, he adds, “but if you want to get something off of me in a different way you know where to find me,” he finishes and throws in a wink for good measure.

A high flush appears on Hanzo’s cheeks and turns the tips of his ears pink. Hanzo makes a disgusted noise. “Here is your room. If you need anything call out for one of the servants. I will send for you in the morning,” he says and storms off. 

Jesse smacks himself. His first day at the Shimada compound and he was already making it difficult for himself. He should’ve argued harder against this, he thinks to himself as he shuts the door and tries to settle in. He tries not to think about the Hanzo’s pleasant scent (something he couldn't quite put a finger on, but it was like the fresh and powerful smell of an oncoming thunderstorm) still lingering and the sight of that awfully cute flush. He really knows how to pick ‘em. 

\---

Hanzo has never been so infuriated. He knew this would be a bad idea, letting a foreigner come onto their territory to “investigate.” He still did not understand why father would ever desire an outsider’s interference, especially from an organization that made it a habit to dismantle criminal empires such as theirs when they weren’t combating omnic and terrorist threats. It was like inviting a viper into the nest and expecting to not be poisoned. 

And that Jesse McCree, that cartoon caricature with his ridiculous costume, those unnecessarily loud boots and the bright colors and ridiculous badged hat with bullets clipped onto it. 

Hanzo was known for his collected calmness, especially in the face of the unexpected, but nothing could’ve prepared him for McCree. The slow drawl of his southern intonations got right underneath Hanzo’s skin, and the way McCree gaze settled upon him with those wild brown eyes made Hanzo feel as if he was stripped bare. There was something unsettling about him, something he couldn’t put a finger on. 

Crude man, the way he so casually offered himself even though they had just met. He seemed like the type to flirt with just about anyone, unconcerned with proprietary, or standards for the matter. As if Hanzo would ever lower himself to a scruffy young man who probably couldn’t even measure up to the skills he boasted about. Either way, time would distinguish falsities from truth. He doesn’t expect this American man to close the mystery, but they do not need his help despite what father believes. Hanzo is determined to prove father wrong. 

He runs across Genji on the way back to his private rooms. “Yo bro,” Genji says. Speaking of bright colors, Hanzo eyes Genji’s neon green hair. “You like it? Just got it done.”

“You look like an uprooted carrot,” Hanzo says. The combination of the orange scarf did not do Genji any favors. “Did you show this to father yet?”

“He’ll see it eventually,” Genji smiles, unconcerned. Hanzo feels a new flash of irritation at that carefree attitude. “Anyhow, I’m off to the arcade. Think our American visitor would like to see the fun parts of Hanamura?”

“No,” Hanzo says tersely. “Leave him be. He’s mine to deal with.”

“Yours, eh?” Genji’s grin grows wider. Hanzo rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean,” Hanzo says. 

“Whatever you say, brother,” Genji moves past him and waves. “Let me know when you’re ready to have some fun.”

And let me know when you’re ready to stop acting like a child without any responsibilities, Hanzo almost says. He bites his tongue hard and swallows those fighting words. He was not in the mood to revisit an old argument today. 

He shakes his head and decides to go instead to the shooting range at the back of the complex. The twin dragons feel his anger and churn beneath his skin. 

\--  
The next day finds McCree not in his room. Hanzo takes a deep breath and turns to the cowering guards. “You were assigned to watch him, and now you’re telling me he somehow managed to slip out without anyone noticing?” The embarrassed silence is all-telling. 

“You are all dismissed. I will deal with you later,” Hanzo says, the irritation he slept off last night returning full force. He could take this issue to father, but lately father already had too much on his plate. Better he not know about this failure at all. 

“Excuse me, young master,” a meek voice says. It is one of the kitchen maids. “I was cleaning the kitchens this morning when I saw the American man leap over the eastern wall.” 

“He leapt over the twenty foot wall?” Hanzo repeats, not bothering to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

The kitchen maid looks down and nods. 

“Are you sure he didn’t just climb over it?”

“I’m sorry, maybe he did and my eyes saw wrong,” the kitchen maid hastily retracts, embarrassed now for possibly telling a tall lie. “But that’s what I thought I saw.” 

Hanzo sighs. He does not want to get into the habit of terrorizing their own people. “Thank you for informing me. I appreciate it. Let me know if you see anything else like this again,” he says more kindly. 

Her body instantly relaxes and she nods before scurrying away. 

McCree had only been in the Shimada compound for barely a day and already there was trouble. Hanzo does not know how that bodes for the remainder of the time he was to be here. 

As it stands, Hanzo will consider this his morning exercise: hunting down his quarry. 

\---

Jesse was currently downing his third and final bowl of ramen. Goddamn he was hungry. Jesse didn’t know too much about Japanese food, but he sure as hell liked ramen, something in which Shimada Castle seemed to lack. He followed his nose which led him to the kitchen, and when he asked, no one seemed to understand a lick of what he was saying. 

So here he is, praising high heaven that there was a ramen place closeby and opened early to boot. Unlike most people he knew, Jesse was by the mindset that breakfast should be the largest meal of the day. 

Besides, his body naturally burned more energy than the average person even if he was just sitting still, so refueling was always a bit of a trainwreck when he hadn’t eaten the night before, and especially when he was suffering from a mild case of jet lag. 

He didn’t get too much sleep. He kept waking up from feverish dreams of drowning in Hanzo’s scent, and seeing the flush of Hanzo’s face traveling all the way down his chest and somewhere even lower. 

Jesse downs his cup of tea, wishing instead for some strong coffee. He’s never caught onto someone so quickly before, especially when that particular person was the opposite of reciprocating. 

The ramen owner approaches Jesse from behind the counter with a bright smile and says something in Japanese, pointing at his almost finished ramen. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that he’s being asked if he wants another. Jesse shakes his head, “Nah, no thanks. I’m all good,” he says, leaning back and petting his belly. The owner laughs and moves to bring out the check when the bells over the door jangle.

_“Irashaimase_ ,” the owner shouts automatically and then looks up, his easy smile freezing in place. The color drains from his face. 

Jesse doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. He smelled Hanzo as soon as he stepped onto the block, and now Jesse is just determined to finish up the dregs of his food before he gets hauled away. 

“Howdy, partner,” Jesse drawls out as Hanzo seats himself beside him at the counter. Hanzo says something to the ramen shop owner, and the owner quickly brings out a pot of tea and a clean cup. 

“What a fine mornin’ this is,” Jesse says, slurping up the remainder of the broth. “Got myself some good grub and now a fine looking piece of work beside me.”

Hanzo narrows his eyes at him, ignoring the flirtatious comment. “Is that all you wanted? Breakfast? There is plenty of food back at the castle.”

“There didn’t seem to be anything I liked,” Jesse shrugs. “I’m a simple man with simple tastes. Don’t like no fancy stuff.”

“Inform the kitchen staff and they will do their best to cater to you,” Hanzo says. 

“I’m also not used to commanding people around,” Jesse says. “It just seemed easier to go out and do it myself.”

“Next time, at least inform somebody that you will be leaving before you actually do,” Hanzo says.

“Why, did you miss me?” A cheeky grin so casually thrown, as if they were good friends. 

“Do not mistake your placement here as one with free reign,” Hanzo warns. “You are here for a purpose, and as your “handler” so to speak, I would expect to continually know your location, and that means not simply disappearing from the compound without so much as a word.” 

Jesse leans on his elbow and turns so that he could look at Hanzo’s strong profile. “That so? Sure, I can be a team player, but only if you agree to the same terms. What’s to say you won’t be leaving me at the castle all day twiddling my thumbs while you go out on your lonesome self trying to uncover this stuff without me along?” 

Jesse leans forward some more, and Hanzo resists the urge to back away. Jesse emits heat like a furnace. Hanzo can feel it even through all their clothes as if he laid himself out in the sun. “I know you think I’m just some thoughtless American yank, but I reckon I got you pegged.”

“Oh?” Hanzo says, voice dangerously low, “and what do you presume to know of me?”

Jesse’s smirk turns feral. The dragons prickle Hanzo’s skin with their amusement. They had an attraction to wild things. No one else would dare speak to him in such a way. It was strangely thrilling. 

“I know a lot more than I let on. Maybe I’ll tell you someday. But in the meantime,” he says reaching over for the pot, “I know you’re going to let me have some of your tea.” 

He reaches over and grabs for the handle. Hanzo waits for it to be right over Jesse when he pushes Jesse’s elbow up and the hot tea spills all over his lap. 

The ramen shop owner had long ago retreated to the back when the tension began, but now he jumps at the sound of Jesse’s outraged yowls and Hanzo’s sharp laughter echoing throughout the room. 

\---  
Jesse grumbles to himself as he is forced to walk out on the streets looking like he wet himself. Thankfully it was just tea and shouldn’t leave any stains. He actually didn’t bring many spare pants with him. 

Jesse thinks Hanzo made him do the walk of shame on purpose, because once it started drying, he pulled out a comm and not a moment later a car rolled around the corner to pick them up. 

“You’re the meanest person I’ve ever met,” Jesse says flatly. Hanzo shrugs, still amused by the entire debacle. Playful isn’t a bad look on Hanzo. Jesse just wishes that it wasn’t at his expense. 

Nearly a week later, after Jesse starts feeling a little stir crazy from a lack of things to do because apparently he wasn’t allowed to leave the complex on his own, he’s finally given an assignment. There was only so much exercise, reading and catching up on writing missed mission reports he could do before his trigger finger started getting itchy. He will be escorting a payload of new weapon shipments in Kyoto. 

Hanzo and Jesse are dropped off at the train station where a private carriage had already been booked for them in advance. There’s no guarantee that the next shipment will also be subject to attack. After all, anyone with half a brain knows that the Shimada-gumi would prepare themselves for another assault. 

“Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” Jesse mutters to himself.

Hanzo shoots him a questioning look but doesn’t enquire. When they arrive, they are greeted by suited Shimada clans men, and Hanzo steps away for a moment. Jesse shrugs, and lights up a cigarillo. He walks around, observing the area. 

They were in some kind of industrial zone and in what looked like to be a defunct smelting factory from the looks and smell of it. The tang of metal makes Jesse’s sensitive nose itch, but the comforting smell of the cigarillo helps overpower it for the most part.

Hanzo had given sharp orders to a few men when he arrived. He didn’t understand what was said, but no one gave Jesse shit or try to stop him from wandering about, although he was eyed with general suspicion. 

There was a palpable air of nervousness on the shoulders of all the men there. Even with the overpowering smell of the factory, the dust, and his cigarillo, he could scent their anxiety and fear. It was apparent too in the way everyone seemed to shuffle around, eyes always darting around as if expecting to be ambushed.

Jesse wonders if this was also the reason why the master of the Shimada gang decided to bring outside help. It seems their membership morale has been lacking, no doubt in the light of the recent attacks. No one wants to just disappear with nigh even a corpse to bury. 

He looks at the burning red end of his smoke. Memories flash briefly, of that deep hole dug out in that dry desert of Route 66, the flies walking across the open eyes of most of the Deadlock Gang, the ones who tried fighting back. 

Years later, after he was coerced into a second chance and had cleaned himself up enough to be trusted not to make a run for it, he went back to that place with a shovel. 

It took him a couple hours of hard work, breaking through years of hard packed dirt, before he reached the pile of bones. It took him even more time trying to sort them out, and in the end he gave up and decided it was the thought that counts and hoped he didn’t mix up too many skulls as as placed them in their individual graves. 

Blackwatch didn’t give much of a stipend, but this had been on his mind for awhile and he saved up for it. Most of the area around was unconverted dry land and so it wasn’t terribly pricy to buy a small parcel of the dust. 

A quiet little cemetery made by Jesse’s own hands. Twenty bodies overlooking the desert in New Mexico. He didn’t bother with any grave markers. It’s not like anyone in the Deadlock Gang had any family, or one’s that gave a shit, to come and pay a visit. 

Altogether it took him all night and he was exhausted not from the hard labor, but just tired in an unfathomable way. 

He sat there and watched the rising sun with the dead, nothing but peaceful silence and the smoke from the end of a glowing red cigarillo curling around him. 

Jesse stubs his smoke beneath his boot. Angela called it a “filthy habit” and continually pestered him to quit. It was difficult for a creature like himself to develop addictions (the body processed the addictive effects of drugs too efficiently), and so when he told her he could quit at any time, he really meant it. But he won’t. 

There weren’t too many comforts in life but he’s made smoking his. Always the same type, the same brand, the same scent. Just a bit of a stability to keep him grounded. 

And now after meeting Hanzo he’s feeling off kilter once more. He doesn’t know why he likes a man who wouldn’t spare him an ounce of kindness. 

Maybe he was turning into a masochist, pining after the impossible. From the corner of his eye he sees one of the Shimada goons glance around discreetly. He wasn’t doing anything the others weren’t, but Jesse felt something unusual about him. He was a bit too twitchy. 

Jesse casually slunk out of that man’s sight and observed. 

Sure enough, when a call was given for the pick-up and everyone goes into motion, the man slips away unnoticed by everyone. Well, almost everyone. 

Perhaps if everyone wasn’t so occupied with the payload, they wouldn’t have forgotten about the tall American hanging about. 

But this was why Reyes sent him. He could be slippery when he wanted to, and his instincts were unparalleled. 

The man scurried away down an abandoned hallway, taking off his ear piece and pocketing it. Jesse didn’t have to see him to follow, and so stayed a good distance behind. 

There was a clanging of metal doors, hushed voices, the sound of something grating. Jesse rounds the corner and lo and behold, it was a dead end. What the shit. 

He looks around. The place was barely illuminated by a partially collapsed roof overhead, but there was enough for Jesse to see without straining his eyes. The walls seemed stable and smooth with no edges to indicate an opening. Jesse was pretty sure the man didn’t clamber up through the broken roof, which left the floor. 

Jesse feels around and his hands catch upon the edge of one the heavy metal grates and lifts. Okay, there was no way that scrawny looking man could’ve lifted this himself so quickly. It felt like it weighed about a hundred fifty pounds easy. 

As gently as possible, he lowers the grating to the side and looks in. There’s a horizontal shaft that, as far as Jesse could see, that curves around the corner and disappears somewhere else. The shaft is big enough to go through if Jesse crawled. 

Even in the dim light Jesse could see the heel print of a shoe on the loose grit that gathered beneath the grating. This was going to be dirty. 

Jesse pulls his red scarf over his nose, and crawls in. He crawls on all fours for a minute until he reaches the end, just an opening with no cover over it. Jesse strains his ears but doesn’t hear so much as a rustle. Just the drip drip of a leaking pipe somewhere. 

He carefully peers out and nearly has a heart attack. Six bastion units are staring right at him. He ducks back into the shaft, heart hammering wildly beneath his chest and cocks peacekeeper. 

All was silent still. 

He slowly looks up again and feels relief when they seemed inactive. At least for now. Their gatling guns were lowered and immobile. 

“What the fuck,” Jesse exhales. What the hell were bastion units doing in a defunct factory? Better yet, what were they doing in Japan at all? Most had been destroyed in the final assault in Germany long ago, and any remainders were quickly dismantled. 

There was definitely something strange going on. He lifts himself out of the hole and immediately spots the man he was following. His body was crumpled on the floor, neck lilting at an awkward angle. Jesse fingered off his glove and touched his neck. Still warm. 

He glances around but finds no indication of anyone living around, not even a heartbeat. That doesn’t mean he’s alone though. If he found bastion units, perhaps another omnic did this. 

Either way, his immediate concern now is making sure there’s no way in hell those bastion units can activate. Jesse might not be a Törbjorn, but he knows how to scramble circuitry. 

He taps the comm link he was given. “Yo, Shimada-san. Keep your eyes peeled for trouble. I found one of your guys tucked away in the back and some omnic units.” 

There’s no immediate response. Jesse feels a prickle at the base of his spine and quickly gets to work. 

He’s on his third bastion unit when Hanzo startles him by dropping down from the fucking _ceiling_. Those rumors that the Shimadas were ninja assassins were probably damn true, because not many people can get the drop on Jesse. He didn’t even hear him. 

Hanzo has a bow in his hand and a metallic headed arrow drawn. Jesse would admire that get-up Hanzo must’ve changed to when they were parted, especially those wickedly pointed shoes with metal attachments at the front resembling claws, but there was something else more dire right now. Like the fact that the arrow was pointed right at him. 

“ _Jeezus_ ,” Jesse says with his hands up. “Point that sharp end somewhere else!” 

Hanzo eyes the gutted circuitry of the two bastion units between them. “What are you doing?” 

“Uhh,” Jesse says gesturing to the omnics. “Isn’t it obvious? Dismantling them in case they decide to turn on?” 

“Who killed my man?” 

“Well when I find out you’ll be the first person to hear about it,” Jesse says testily. “He was already dead when I arrived on the scene. Now if you don’t mind, let me finish this up.” 

Hanzo lets loose the arrow. Jesse might have made a noise that sounded like a very manly squeak, which he will forever deny. The arrow embeds itself through the head of the bastion unit he was currently gutting. The shaft penetrates through the hard metal like butter, and it sparks. 

“This is much quicker,” Hanzo says and draws another arrow from the quiver slung across his back. 

“I would not like to be on the receiving end of this,” Jesse says as he eyes the barbed metal arrowhead he pulls out of the targets. “Bow and arrows. What a time to be aliv—holy shit!” 

Jesse lunges forward and knocks Hanzo over. A bright light whizzes over Hanzo’s head and scorches the wall behind him. 

An omnic sentry bot was holding a pulse rifle. Its three eyes were blood red. As Jesse rolled forward to move Hanzo out of the way, in the momentum, he had pulled out Peacemaker in the same motion and fanned the hammer. All six shots connected, four in the head and two in the torso. The sentry bot crackled and fell, the light in its eyes leeching out.

It all happened so fast that the bot didn’t even have time to squeeze another shot. 

Jesse got up and offered a hand to Hanzo. He was surprised when Hanzo actually took it. 

“You saved my life,” Hanzo said, confused. He was pulled up, and did not let go of Jesse’s proffered arm. “You could’ve easily just let it kill me.”

“It’s all in a day’s work,” Jesse says breezily. “And you make it sound like I want you dead.”

“Is that not how Overwatch has traditionally handled criminal organizations?” Is the reply. “It’s not documented, but we all know how people like me are...disposed of.” 

Jesse’s thoughts immediately flash back to the unmarked graves. “Well, whatever you hear, that ain’t me. My job is to investigate this matter here, and it seems there’s something more going on. The other fluff is up to me to decide, and I ain’t gonna let some bot off you. Not on my watch.”

“Such loyalty you show to someone who has done nothing to deserve it,” Hanzo says, finally letting go of Jesse’s hand. “That either makes you a hero or fool.”

Jesse sighs. “Well I suppose that’s up to you to decide. Ain’t no skin off my back.”

Hanzo sizes him up, and seems to come to some kind of conclusion.“I may have misjudged you and your intentions. My apologies,” he gives a formal bow, “Shimada Hanzo. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” 

Jesse feels a wide grin break across his face. He tilts his hat and nods. “Jesse McCree. But you can just call me Jesse.”

“Jesse,” Hanzo says, tasting the name. Jesse likes the way his name falls off Hanzo’s lips. Those same lips curve into a slight smile and Jesse feels his gut flip. Oh, no. This crush he’s sporting isn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

Jesse coughs. “This might not be the last bot and I think you’re pretty handy with that bow. Let’s scour the area and see if we can find any clues,” he says and spins Peacemaker, ejecting the cartridge and reloading it with a speedloader. 

Hanzo nods in agreement. 

Their search proves futile. There is no indication on how the bastion units were placed there, by whom, and for what purpose. Jesse volunteered to shoulder the burden of carrying the corpse out. 

The Shimada payload was traded without a hitch, especially with Hanzo’s sharp eyes overseeing the deal. He had gone to Jesse’s location as soon as he heard the transmission and used the tracking device embedded in the comm link to find him. 

They make it back to Shimada castle, and Hanzo immediately goes to see his father for the report. Jesse heads back to his room to do the same for Reyes. 

“Fuck,” Reyes says when he receives Jesse’s call. “And you said it’s eyes were red?” 

“Yeah boss. This whole situation is kind of weird. I haven’t figured out yet why the Shimada gang is being targeted specifically, and why those omnics were there.”

“Sometimes there isn’t a real reason,” Reyes says, “not with omnics controlled by a god program. Their purpose is to destroy, but usually it’s done so indiscriminately.” 

“I don’t like this at all, boss,” Jesse says. “I’ve got a gut feeling though that it might be something else. If there was a god program running the scenes, I feel like it should’ve been smoother and more organized. Hell, those bastion units weren’t even active.”

Jesse hears Reyes mutter something and shuffle around some papers. “It seems this isn’t going to be a quick mission. For now your assignment is to stay there until you can find something more concrete.”

“Am I going to get any back-up?” Jesse asks curiously. 

“Do you think you need it?” Reyes replies. 

Jesse mulls it over. “No, I think I can handle it. Though I wouldn’t say no to any additional help.”

“Good to hear, because you’re on your own for now cowboy. Big shit is going on in Siberia right now and it’s all hands on deck. All the big guns are coming out for the show. I can’t spare anyone else in Japan nosing about right now.” 

“Aww,” Jesse whines. “Now that sounds like a mission I want to be on.” 

“You aren’t twelve, stop your bitching. Report to me again if you find out something else.”

“Got it,” Jesse says. “Good luck on the mission, boss. Try not to kill Commander Morrison.” 

“Hah,” Reyes barks before ending the transmission. 

Oh yeah, those two were definitely fucking. Looks like Jesse is going to be winning some cash in that prize pool when he gets back. 

\---

Hanzo gives a very similar report to Gotoh. They sit across from each other and speak across two cups of steaming green tea. Gotoh folds his arms across his chest and hums. “It seems the more we look into this the more twisted the path gets.”

“Yes, but I believe that we’ll eventually find the end,” Hanzo says. 

Gotoh nods. “You’ve done good work my son. It is unfortunate, however, about Arakawa’s death.” 

They identified the corpse as Arakawa Touyo, one of their many members. “Agent Mccree said that Arakawa was acting strangely, and when he followed him, he was dead in that same room with the defunct omnics.” 

“Yes. It seems someone might have gotten to him. I had someone else look into this and it seems his wife and son are missing.” 

“Kidnapped?” 

“It would certainly look so,” Gotoh says. “We must proceed with caution. There may be other members who are similarly compromised.”

Gotoh picks up his tea and stares into it. “On another note, what do you think of the Overwatch agent?” 

“He is certainly skilled,” Hanzo says, thinking back on how swiftly McCree—no, Jesse, had responded to the sentry bot. His accuracy and speed with that ridiculous revolver was impressive. 

“High praise coming from you, my son,” Gotoh says. “Can we trust him?” 

“I don’t believe he is a danger to us,” Hanzo says. He hesitates. 

“Go on,” his father says, “there is something else?” 

Hanzo avoids his father’s eyes. “I don’t think he will try to do us any harm,” he repeats, “but from what I’ve observed about him, something doesn’t seem to match up. Sometimes the way he moves, or how he manages to hear and see things, and his swiftness seem...unnatural.” 

“I have heard that Overwatch fills their rosters with such extraordinary people,” Gotoh says, “and so that does not sound unusual to me.” 

“Perhaps,” Hanzo says and leaves it there. 

“By the way, will Genji be assisting in this? This matter involves the safety of our clan, and I believe it would do him good to be involved as such.” 

“I agree,” Gotoh says, “but Genji is like a sparrow. He flits from place to place. This would not suit him.”

“Why is Genji allowed so much leeway?” Hanzo asks, suddenly angry. “If he is to help run this empire in the future, he needs to be involved.”

“My son,” Gotoh says sounding weary. “One cannot force a dragon to do something against its very nature. It would destroy the spirit.” 

“And what of mine, then?” Hanzo says, the years of frustration spilling forth unbidden. “Where is my freedom?” 

Gotoh meets Hanzo’s eyes steadily. “What is it that you wish Hanzo? Do you want to be unburdened by family duties? Does the work not suit you?” 

“Does it matter?” Hanzo says bitterly. “It’s what I was raised and trained to do. Better me than Genji.” 

“You do have a talent for it and I am fortunate to have you as my heir,” Gotoh says with great sincerity. “But that does not answer my question. In your heart, what is it that you truly want?” 

Hanzo sighs, anger leaving him like an empty sail. “I don’t know what I want.” 

His father reaches across the small table and clasps Hanzo’s hand. “When your mother passed away, I felt nothing but grief for many long months. During my grieving, I thought about all the concerns she had about you and Genji, things I always dismissed as irrelevant until she was gone and her words haunted me day and night.” 

This was the first time Hanzo has heard about this. His mother died two years ago from cancer in the stomach. Her death was a mercy from the pain she suffered. “And what was _okaasan_ concerned about?”

“She was concerned about your happiness, you and Genji both, but especially you.” His hand tightens around Hanzo’s. “You carry a heavy burden, heavier than Genji’s. Not only are you the eldest, but the two dragons you hold speak of your capacity for greatness.” 

According to legend, only the most worthy held the spirit dragons. Genji had one, but Hanzo had two. The only other person who held two was the founder of the Shimada-gumi. 

“But one must be prepared to sacrifice much for greatness. I always considered happiness to be a frivolity, unnecessary and prone to opening one to weakness.” Gotoh’s eyes glisten. “But when Yukino left this world, I never knew how happy I was until she was gone. It was something I had and didn’t recognize, and now I know of its presence whereof I never truly acknowledged it before. The life as master of the Shimada-gumi demands great sacrifices.” 

“Father…” Hanzo breathes, his heart aching to see his father’s unbidden tears. 

Gotoh visibly controls himself and does not allow himself to weep in front of his son. “Remember that you and Genji are dear to me. I may be the head of this clan, but the welfare of my children will always take precedence over my duties.”

Hanzo pondered over his father’s words as he excused himself from his presence. His head was a jumble of emotions fighting for control; anger, sadness, frustration, longing, emptiness. Nothing to ground him. At that thought, Jesse’s image flashes at the forefront. That Overwatch agent with his selfless actions, his skill and easy personality, his handsome rugged face and wild eyes, and his strength when he pulled Hanzo from the ground with absolute ease. Like snapshots, they spin around and around. 

Despite how Hanzo had treated him, Jesse seems to have bore him no ill will, like water sliding off an oiled surface. Hanzo feels the rare emotion of shame. He had not been acting as he should. But then again, how is he supposed to act? All his life he has been molded to be a representation of the Shimada-gumi, but in the end, who is he to himself? 

His feet take him to Jesse’s assigned room without thought, and Hanzo does not realize this until he is standing in front of Jesse’s door. Hanzo hesitates, and before he is allowed the chance to walk away without anyone knowing any better, the door slides open.

“Hey there,” Jesse smiles brightly at him. His hair was damp and he was shirtless. His worn grey sweatpants hung obscenely low. “Reckon you want to come in, or are you going to stay outside the whole night?”

“I should go,” Hanzo says, though makes no motion to do so. 

Jesse opens the door wider and gestures him in. “C’mon, I promise not to bite,” he says. Then, with a sly expression, he adds, “unless you want me to.”

This breaks Hanzo out of his pensive mood. He rolls his eyes and walks into the lair of the beast. 

“I don’t got much in the way of offerings, and something mighty must be eating at you for you to come see me,” Jesse says, foraging around in his bag, “but when there are too many thoughts in my head, there’s two things that I like to clear it with: smokes and whiskey. Ah-hah!” He pulls out a glass bottle with auburn liquid inside.

He uncaps the bottle and takes a swig before handing it to Hanzo. “No glasses for this?” Hanzo asks. 

“Couldn’t find the room for them,” Jesse says. “If you don’t want it, that’s fine, I’ll just take that back....” Hanzo takes a heavy drink, “...or maybe not. Woah, slow down there. Leave some for me.” 

The whiskey burns the back of Hanzo’s throat. They pass the bottle between them a couple times, and by the third swig, Hanzo starts feeling relaxed. As if drawn by a magnet, or perhaps to his radiating heat, Hanzo leans against Jesse’s side. Jesse’s arm wraps around Hanzo’s shoulders automatically, and as soon as he realizes this Jesse attempts to remove said arm. 

Hanzo shakes his head and places that arm back. 

Jesse gulps when Hanzo leans even closer so that his face was pressed against Jesse’s neck.

“Uh...Shimada-san, maybe you’ve had enough,” he says, reaching for the bottle.

“Hanzo,” he says, holding the bottle away from Jesse’s searching grasp. “You may call me Hanzo.”

Hanzo’s breath was hot and wet against Jesse’s neck and now his pants were starting to feel tight. Jesse holds himself rigid with the hope it would go unnoticed. 

Jesse involuntarily yelps when a hand cups the bulge he was trying so hard to ignore. The strangled sound turns into a moan as Hanzo gives it a firm squeeze. “Oh my god darlin’, you’re killing me.”

A light chuff against his neck. “Really? I’ve barely started,” Hanzo murmurs, giving Jesse’s neck a lick. Jesse feels like he is about to spontaneously combust from lust. He doesn’t know what to do with Hanzo, where to start, how to reciprocate without offending him, how much Hanzo would allow. 

“You’re thinking too much.” Hanzo strokes him through his pants and seems to approve with a nip when he drags out more breathy moans from Jesse. They shift together, whiskey bottle forgotten, Hanzo sitting in Jesse’s lap. 

They trade sloppy slick kisses, tongues and teeth fighting for control. Hanzo’s hips find a rhythm with Jesse’s as they grind against against each other. The friction was sublime. 

Jesse, now beyond the point of caution, squeezes that pert ass. Hanzo moans against Jesse’s mouth and god, Jesse was going to come right here and now like an inexperienced sixteen year old. Hanzo was the hottest person he’s ever been with. 

Jesse kisses with fervor and gently leans forward, lips never breaking, as he lowers Hanzo so that he was lying flat on his back with Jesse on top. 

“Off,” Hanzo says. It breaks through Jesse’s feverish lust, and for a moment he thinks maybe this is where Hanzo is drawing the line before he realizes Hanzo meant his pants. Jesse obliges, sliding them off easily, his cock jutting out and already leaking at the tip. Hanzo feels his mouth water at the sight of it. 

He allows Jesse to strip Hanzo out of his robes, the sash falling off and the smooth fabric sliding off of him as they continued to grind against each other on the floor. Jesse immediately sees the large tattoo dominating Hanzo’s left pectoral, over his shoulder and swirling all the way down his arm, ending at the wrist. The blue scaled dragon was incredibly detailed, as gorgeous as its owner. 

Jesse leans forward and laves his tongue over Hanzo’s tattooed chest. As if struck by a current, Hanzo bucks up and barely represses a shout that would probably send people running to investigate. It felt amazing. He grabs Jesse by the hair and pushes him back down when he looks up inquiringly. Jesse happily obliges, kissing and licking his way from Hanzo’s chest to his neck and back down over his shoulder.

Hanzo felt like he was being consumed. The heat was almost unbearable, and they were both slicked with sweat. It was dirty, obscene, and everything Hanzo never imagined desiring. 

Jesse takes them both in his large hand and strokes. Hanzo felt his face burn as Jesse stares into his eyes, never breaking contact, and brought the both of them over the edge. Hanzo bites his fist to contain his hitched moans as he spills all over Jesse’s hand. Jesse groans, squeezing his eyes shut as he too finishes messily all over their bellies. 

“God _damn_ ,” Jesse says, as they continue to trade kisses, slowly falling down from the high. “Gorgeous. So beautiful. The absolute best.” Hanzo preens at Jesse’s praises, cupping his face as they continue to languidly kiss. They were both filthy and should clean up before anything starts to dry, but right now Hanzo could care less about cleanliness and propriety. He wants to be consumed. 

Jesse doesn’t know how long they’ve been necking for, but it felt like hours. By the time they were done, his lips were sore and probably swollen. Hanzo’s wasn't faring any better. Jesse’s joints pop as he gets up to go to the private bathroom attached to his room and runs a clean towel under warm water. He cleans himself up first before going over to Hanzo, who has yet to muster the energy to get up. 

Jesse gently wipes Hanzo down. “ _Arigatou_ ,” Hanzo murmurs sleepily. Unable to stop himself, Jesse leans down to steal another kiss. “Mmm,” Hanzo hums, allowing this. 

“Alright sleepyhead,” Jesse says, tossing the dirty towel somewhere in the corner. He’ll take care of it in the morning. “I ain’t letting you fall asleep on the floor. Come on.” Jesse gets his arm underneath Hanzo’s prone form and lifts.

The way Jesse so easily lifts him makes Hanzo wish he could go for another round. He knows that he is not a light man, but Jesse carried him as if he weighed no more than a feather. 

Jesse places him on the bed and slides in with him. He pulls the cool sheets over the both of them. “I hope you won’t regret this in the morning,” Jesse whispers against the back of Hanzo’s head as they maneuver themselves onto their sides with Jesse spooning him from behind. Hanzo’s too tired to bother with a response, letting the heat of Jesse’s body and those strong arms keeping him from shaking apart lull him into a deep slumber. 

\---

When Hanzo wakes up in the morning, it’s to a killer headache and an empty bed. “G’morning,” he hears. The room keeps expanding and shrinking. “Not feeling too good huh? I’ve got just the remedy for you.” 

Hanzo sits up and allows a glass of cold water to be pushed into his hand. His throat is absolutely parched. “Here,” Jesse says, handing him a couple of white pills. Hanzo eyes them suspiciously. Jesse smiles and says, “Anti-hangover cure. It won’t kill you, I promise.” 

Hanzo pops them into his mouth and swallows. Jesse looks too bright-eyed, cheery and refreshed for his own good, especially after last night. It was difficult to look at. He lies back down, and starts feeling much less nauseated after about half an hour. His vision has also stopped swimming.

“You drank as much as I did last night, if not more. How is it that you are unaffected?” Hanzo grumbles. 

“Good genes,” Jesse answers simply. He sits on the bed and gathers Hanzo so that his head is resting on Jesse’s lap. They’ve known each other so briefly, and things have moved at a lightning fast pace, yet that motion was already comfortable and familiar. It was unsettling, but undeniably pleasant. 

“It might not be my place to ask, but I’ll do so anyway. You can tell me to shut up if you want,” Jesse says, stroking through Hanzo’s long silky hair. Hanzo pushes his head into Jesse’s hands, enjoying the head scratch immensely. 

“So what was eating you last night?”

“Thoughts,” Hanzo sighs. “About what I’m doing. Questions about myself, my purpose. My desires. More questions than answers.”

“Ah, I’ve had those moments too,” Jesse says. 

“I doubt it’s the same predicament as mine,” Hanzo replies. Jesse shakes his head. “I’m not comparing us side by side. I ain’t no mob boss’ son, but I reckon you and I might have a lot more in common than you think.”

Hanzo takes Jesse’s hand and traces the veins running through them. A calm dragon in contemplation. “What were you doing before you became an agent with Overwatch?” 

“Are you asking as my “handler” or as a lover?” Jesse says. There’s no incrimination or judgment in his voice. It was just a simple question seeking an honest answer.

Hanzo finds himself kissing the back of Jesse’s hand. “The latter. I will not tell anyone, though what you choose to disclose is completely up to you. I will not pry where I am not wanted.”

Reyes would murder him in cold blood if he knew about this, but Jesse tells Hanzo anyway. His instincts tell him that, even with Hanzo’s position, that he could trust him. So far his instincts have never led him astray. So Jesse recounts to him about his days in the gang he used to run with, smuggling and trading illegal military grade tech in Santa Fe, being picked up by a faction of Overwatch during a sting operation, the hazings he had to bear with at the beginning of his service because that was better than the alternative of a lifetime of imprisonment, a little bit about his commanding officer, and hell, he even tells Hanzo about the graves out in the desert. 

“Why did you go back?” Hanzo asks. Jesse makes a questioning noise. “The desert. Where your former group perished. It sounds like the relationship you shared with them was tumultuous at best, and not much love was shared between you all.” 

“You are mighty perceptive,” Jesse says. “I don’t know why I went back to bury them. You’re right. They weren’t my friends, but in a way we were like family. Even if you hate each other’s guts, can’t stand the sight of each other, or fight every moment you see each other, blood runs deep, especially when it’s been spilled. We were all lonely in our own way, people without roots, coming together as one fucked up family.” 

Jesse pauses, choosing his words carefully. Hanzo’s mind wanders to Genji and tries to make Jesse’s words fit into that context. “I try not to give it too much thought, but I suppose I went back because I needed to make peace with the past. I got a second chance to redeem myself, to fix all the wrong I’ve done to innocent people. No one else in the Deadlock gang did.”

“Do you feel guilty for your survival?” Hanzo asks with gentleness. 

“No, I don’t, at least not anymore. I use to in the beginning, but I think I’ve buried all of that with their bones. It was like saying goodbye, a proper one that I never got when they were alive, and I’d like to think that in the end they would’ve forgiven me for abandoning them. Besides,” Jesse says with a broken smile, “If I joined them in that hole, I would have never gotten the chance to meet you.”

Hanzo leans up and gives Jesse a chaste kiss, desiring to chase away the sorrow. “Thank you for telling me,” Hanzo says, moved by Jesse’s humanity. 

“Naw, thanks for listening darlin’,” Jesse says, cupping Hanzo’s cheek. “I’m known to blabber a bit too much.”

“It’s beginning to grow on me,” Hanzo says. “I feel as if I’ve been dead for a long time, but am now just starting to know what it feels like to be alive.” He admits this freely. 

“You’ve been bottling up your emotions for a long time, haven’t you?” Jesse says, his eyes bright and clear. Hanzo admires Jesse’s astuteness. “That ain’t healthy darlin’. I would know.” 

“I am starting to see that now,” Hanzo says. He sighs. “As pleasant as it would be to spend the remainder of the day here, I have duties to attend to.” He glances at the clock on the wall. “And I’ve already missed one. We will reconvene later in the afternoon.” 

Jesse nods and lets Hanzo get up. In the daylight, Jesse admires Hanzo’s sleek muscled form, the dragon tattoo easier to see in its different shades, and of course that pert ass. He can’t believe his luck. 

At the moment there were no other leads. Hanzo told Jesse that there are others in charge of finding out where Arakawa’s family is, and that they would be informed of any news. Right now everything was just a dead end.

Jesse spent the next few hours while Hanzo was away going through his holopad, looking up recent news as well as accessing Blackwatch’s database to find out more information about the known gangs in Japan. 

There was something else, something Jesse was missing. It niggled at worryingly. What possible motive could someone have to target Shimada shipments? Maybe it wasn’t really about the Shimada’s itself, but what they were carrying. After all, the Shimada gang was the largest yakuza group operating in Japan, and therefore had the most access to all the valuable goods. 

But even then, that doesn’t really explain it, because even though the weapon shipments went missing, what possible motive could the culprit have for taking all the Shimada clansmen as well? Not one body, other than Arakawa’s, was recovered. Omnics had no use for human prisoners and forced human labor was not nearly as efficient as a robotic one. 

The omnics in that factory were placed there as if they wanted to be found. But why? Jesse groans and flops onto the bed. This was getting him nowhere. 

Jesse was considering a nap when he heard footsteps quickly approaching his direction. The door slides open without so much as an “excuse me” or “pardon me,” and Jesse is about to give some kind of spiel about politeness and such, but the expression on the woman’s face stops him short. She looks terrified. 

“You are being summoned McCree-san,” the lady says. “Please, come with me.”

Jesse quickly holsters Peacemaker, picks up his hat, and follows. She leads him down those long wooden corridors and beckons him into an unfamiliar room. He sees Hanzo, long hair tied back with a silky yellow ribbon, leaning against the banister overlooking the sakura garden with a consternated expression.

“Arakawa’s body went missing,” Hanzo says, straight to the point.

“Missing as in he was misplaced, or missing as in stolen?” Jesse asks.

Hanzo makes a frustrated noise and rubs his face. “No one is sure. He was placed in a morgue awaiting an autopsy to make sure it really was a broken neck that killed him. According to the mortician…” Hanzo’s brows draw together, “...according to him, he turned around for a moment to grab his tools and when he looked back the body vanished.”

“I don’t believe in zombies and I ain’t about to now. Were there any surveillance cameras around?”

“This was caught outside the mortuary,” Hanzo says and brings out a holopad. He taps it, and hands it over to Jesse. The footage is good quality, and he could clearly see a man with Arakawa’s face walk out of the mortuary and down an alleyway. 

“Now that is downright disturbing,” Jesse says. “I don’t know how that’s even possible. The man was deader than a rock.”

“Maybe he wasn’t. I didn’t check his pulse. Did you?” Hanzo asks.

“I did, and I’m telling you, the man was down for the count,” Jesse replies. Actually Jesse didn’t check his pulse, but he didn’t have to. He heard no heartbeat. Not that he could tell Hanzo that despite the moment they shared last night. 

“I’m assuming there weren’t any cameras in the alleyway.”

Hanzo shakes his head. “This isn’t England. We don’t have surveillance cameras at the end of every block. We’re fortunate enough as it is that a private business from across the street was there at all to capture this.”

“Shit,” Jesse says, chewing his bottom lip. “Would you mind taking me there? I might be able to find a lead.”

“My men have already scoured the area and there were no clues as to his whereabouts,” Hanzo says, taking back the holopad.

“I’m sure they did a good job, but I’d like to go check it out myself.”

Hanzo eyes him. “If you insist. We can go now if you wish.”

“I thought you had duties to attend to,” Jesse says.

“This takes precedence,” Hanzo says. “Father has rearranged my schedule and he has asked me to take any leads as my top priority.”

“Hey now,” Jesse says, hand reaching out to cup the side of Hanzo’s neck, his thumb underneath Hanzo’s clenched jaw. “Don’t stress yourself out too much. The fact that something is happening at all means that there’s a chance for us to catch the tail of this thing.”

“We shall see,” is Hanzo’s response.

\---

It turns out that the mortuary isn’t too far away, only twenty minutes by car. They go quietly, just the two of them together. Their driver waits. Other than him, there were no guards accompanying them to draw unnecessary attention. Jesse immediately recognizes the alley from the vid, and makes a beeline for it. 

Hanzo follows closely behind. He has a long black duffle bag slung over his shoulder, which contains Stormbow and his quiver of arrows. He was dressed in simple black slacks and a casual blue sweater. 

Jesse decided to dress down for this, abandoning the spokes on his boots, and dressing in simple dark jeans and a button down shirt. Thankfully the weather was a bit chilly today, and so it wouldn’t look unusual for him to wear his brown canvas jacket. It was bulky enough to hide the shape of Peacekeeper in the inner pocket. 

“Hey, why this mortuary in particular anyway?” Jesse asks as they walk down the alley. “I imagine the yakuza, owning as many businesses as you do, would have your own.”

“We do,” Hanzo says, “but Arakawa listed this place in his end-of-life decision. We do try to honor our fallen member’s wishes when plausible.”

“No wonder the Shimada clan has such a strong membership,” Jesse responds. “No other gang I know gives a rat’s ass about their people as much as you guys seem to.”

Jesse stops and takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes for a moment and tries to remember Arakawa’s scent. He wasn’t so focused on it at that time, so it was a bit difficult to recall. There was a strange bitterness to his smell, and something iron-like. Like blood left to bake in the sun. Jesse’s nose was better than any bloodhound and Reyes has used him before to track down runaways. 

He slowly walks, leaving his mouth slightly open as he breathes in deeply. Hanzo watches him from behind, curious as to what Jesse was doing but otherwise not interfering. Jesse can feel Hanzo’s eyes bore into his back, but doesn’t let that distract him. 

Ah, there. It was extremely faint, but present. It led up to the roof. “Up there,” Jesse says, pointing with his chin. 

Hanzo’s climbing skills were unparalleled. There were no emergency fire escapes attached to this side of the building, or really too many footholds, and Jesse watches with amazement as Hanzo efficiently and quickly scaled the side of the building faster than a spider. 

“Damn ninjas,” Jesse mutters to himself. Determined not to be outdone, he rubs his palms onto his jeans and begins the same climb. It takes him longer to reach the top, but he manages. 

“Impressive,” Hanzo says, helping him over the ledge. 

“Darlin’, you’re the one who’s impressive,” Jesse says appraisingly. 

“You give out compliments too easily,” Hanzo remarks, turning away. He doesn’t sound pleased about it, but the pink at the tip of his ears says otherwise.

Jesse decides to explore this aspect of Hanzo another time. He picks up the scent again, and he takes the lead as they jump from rooftop to rooftop. 

“Where are we going?” Hanzo asks him after fifteen minutes of light running. 

Jesse doesn’t answer him because he thinks he’s found the place. It was a nondescript looking building, but boarded up. It looked like an apartment complex in the process of being condemned. “I believe our man went here,” Jesse says.

“How do you know that?” 

“Just trust me on this.” One of the windows of the complex was missing on the second floor. They both clamber into it. Hanzo removes Stormbow from its casing and strings it. 

Jesse cocks Peacekeeper. Both are at the ready. 

They make their way in, Hanzo firing sonic arrows down each hallway they visit. During scouting missions and hits, he wears specialized contacts that allow him to see the thermal heat signature information gathered by his arrows. It was a useful tool for seeing through walls. 

“There,” Hanzo says. Pointing to the room at the corner of the hallway. They’re on the third floor. “I can see one person, huddled against the east part of the room.” 

Jesse nods. “Those arrows of yours are amazing. What other specialized tech you got in them?” 

“You’ll have to see for yourself,” is all Hanzo says as Jesse kicks the door down. 

They both rush into the room simultaneously, Jesse darting to the left and Hanzo to the right. The room was completely empty, all furniture and household wares stripped. The only thing here was a huddled form in the corner. 

“Arakawa?” Hanzo says, moving closer. Jesse’s arm comes up and stops him. 

“Wait,” Jesse says, brows furrowed. He inhales deeply. “Something ain’t right.”

Arakawa lifts up his head, or at least tries to. His neck hangs awkwardly to the side. His skin is pale and green around the edges, his eyes completely bloodshot and gelled. There were streaks of blood running down his face from the corner of his eyes. 

“ _I did it, I killed them_ ,” he says brokenly. Jesse gives Hanzo a puzzled look. He doesn’t understand a lick of Japanese. 

“ _Explain yourself_ ,” Hanzo says. “ _Tell me what has happened_.”

The man moans in pain. “ _I didn’t want to do it but they told me to. They told me to pick up the knife and I did. I tried to stop myself but I kept going_ ,” trail of blood flows more profusely now from his eyes. “ _I watched myself kill Akira and Rei. She kept screaming, and I couldn’t stop_.”

“ _Who made you do it_?”

“ _I don’t know their name. They never told me. Watch out, young master. They have eyes everywhere and they do things to your mind_ ,” Arakawa says, shakily pointing to his head, “ _They make you into something else. There’s no saving me. I wait to join my family_.”

“What’s he saying?” Jesse asks. Hanzo hushes him with a raised hand. 

“ _Arakawa. You’ve been a very good member of the Shimada-gumi, and so you must tell me more. You might be able to save others_ ,” Hanzo says. “ _I_ —,” Arakawa’s face morphs into pure terror. His body begins to shake. “ _Run_!” His body convulses violently. 

“We have to get out of here!” Jesse yells when Hanzo makes a move to assist Arakawa. He heard the faint beeping noise of some kind of device in Arakawa’s chest. 

Jesse forcibly drags Hanzo out of the room and they make a dash for it. Jesse, the quicker of the two, throws his arms over his face as he jumps through the window of the third floor. Hanzo is right behind him, landing with a grunt of pain. 

The building explodes. The heat was searing. Jesse threw himself on top of Hanzo while covering his head, and he felt the debris of heavy broken brick and shattered concrete knock the breath out of him. 

Hanzo feels Jesse’s weight pinning him to the ground. Stormbow pokes Hanzo’s abdomen painfully. He groans. Everything was so dark. 

He hears Jesse’s heavy breathing and something hot spreading across his back. With a loud grunt Jesse lifts himself up, a loud cracking noise, and suddenly there’s light again. 

Hanzo lifts his head and sees pandemonium. There are people screaming, though it was like hearing it with cotton in his ears. The building behind him was completely blown open like a cracked egg, and the surrounding buildings were broken from being pelted with the debris. 

He looks up at Jesse. Jesse’s face is gritted tight, a dangerous golden glint in his eyes (or was that a trick of light?) and his sharp teeth bared. Jesse slings an arm around Hanzo and lifts him. Hanzo grips Stormbow with his other hand. Hanzo knows from experience that is his ankle is broken. The pain has yet to penetrate his foggy mind. 

Jesse mouths something at him and Hanzo squints, trying to parse out the words by reading his lips. Nothing made sense right. The ringing in his ears grew louder. 

A black car pulls in front of them. Jesse thanks whoever is listening up there that they brought a driver with them, because the ambulance and police sirens were closing in. 

He dumps Hanzo into the backseat as gently as he can, and jumps into the front with the driver. They speed away as Japanese squad cars pull up to the front of the burning building. 

\---

When they arrive back at Shimada Castle, the entire place was in uproar. People were scurrying about like hurried ants. The explosion was all over the news. 

A stretcher was brought out for Hanzo and he was swiftly carried away. Jesse was led to what looked like the medical ward of Shimada Castle, all white and sterile. It was the most modern room in the entire complex and housed the latest medical technology. 

Jesse bemoaned the loss of his torn jacket and shirt. He really should have brought more clothes. If only he knew. 

He allowed the medical assistant to clean and disinfect the deep lacerations and bruises covering the expanse of his back, but when she reached for the needle gun to insert nanotech boosters, he jumped off the table. 

“No nanotech,” Jesse says firmly. 

The medical assistant spits something not very nice sounding at him and comes closer with the nano injector. He gently catches her wrist and looks her dead in the eye. “I said no,” he growls. 

She puts it down, furious. Jesse knows she’s just trying to do her job, but how is he supposed to explain that all the nanotech would do is probably give him an infection?

That was the downside of being what he was. His body fought tooth and nail against all kinds of foreign substances in the blood, and although that was advantageous in many ways, all healing must be done the old fashioned way of just letting it be. 

Angela feared what would happen if he were to ever suffer mortal injury, but so far her prototype Caduceus technology seemed to work to an extent. It allowed the body’s own cells to heal itself, and acted only as a catalyst to speed it up a hundred fold. 

That was not in mass production though, or even known to the general public, and so now Jesse is in the dilemma of looking like an ass refusing standard, but high quality, medical treatment. 

The medical assistant realizes she can’t fight Jesse however, and gets the bandages. “Sorry,” Jesse tells her as she patches him up. 

As soon as she’s done, one of the Shimada staff members who was waiting at the entrance bows to him and asks him to follow her. 

“Uh, can I at least get a spare shirt and change out of my pants?” Jesse says, gesturing to the dried blood caking the remainder of his unshredded clothes. 

Honestly, Jesse was exhausted. The whole thing felt like a clusterfuck, his back was killing him, and all he wanted to do was knock out for a couple of days. His body was demanding sleep now. 

When he is escorted back to his room, he does strip out of his old pants, and deciding to fuck it all, whoever is summoning him can wait till tomorrow, he lies down on the bed on his stomach and promptly knocks out. 

It feels like he only slept for a couple of hours before he wakes up groggily. It looks like very early morning. Through his window he could see that it was dark outside, but knew the sun would be rising soon. 

Something woke him however. He turns his head and spots Hanzo sitting on the edge of the bed. Either his survival instincts were out of whack or maybe they recognized Hanzo as non-threatening, because no way in hell would someone else be able to slip next to him like this without waking him way ahead of time. 

“Howdy,” Jesse says, voice low and sleepy. “How’s the leg?” 

“My ankle is fine. It’ll heal within a few weeks,” Hanzo says, edging closer to Jesse now that he was awake and touched the edge of his bandages. Jesse was wounded more severely than Hanzo, who only suffered from a clean ankle break and a temporary case of tinnitus. “I was told that you refused medical treatment. Why?” 

Jesse’s chest rumbles. “Would do me more harm than good darlin’. It’s difficult to explain.” 

Hanzo’s expression is pinched. “More secrets you can’t tell me?” 

“Aye,” Jesse says. “I’m sure you got some you stick close to your chest too. Maybe some day, but now ain’t the time.” 

Hanzo accepts this, though unhappily. 

“I dislike that not only have you saved my life once, but now twice. I owe you a debt,” Hanzo says, head hung low. 

Jesse huffs with amusement. Hanzo’s head snaps up and gives him an angry look. “This isn’t a joke. It’s a matter of honor and I will see it paid.” 

Jesse beckons Hanzo closer with a raised arm, and Hanzo slides off the bed so he could kneel in front of Jesse. Jesse tugs him close by the back of his head and gives him two firm kisses on the lips. “There. The debt is paid,” he says. 

Hanzo’s anger falls away like parted water. “It’s not that simple,” he says, now amused. Jesse seems to have that effect on him. 

“It can be that simple if you make it so,” is Jesse’s calm reply. “I ain’t looking to hold anything over your head nor would I want to. That ain’t me and,” he says warningly, “I will be very upset if you try to make a bigger hoot about the debt honor thing. Make a man feel mighty uncomfortable.”

Hanzo couldn’t help but laugh at Jesse’s serious face. This man was ridiculous, brushing away a heavy life debt owed by the heir of the Shimada-gumi like a stray leaf fallen on one’s shoulder. Most would kill to hold such power over him. 

What a fool, but an honorable one, Hanzo thinks to himself as he leans forward so that their foreheads touched. Jesse wore earnestness like a badge, and Hanzo truly sees that Jesse is a good man at heart. 

“Is there anything I can do to ease your pain?” Hanzo asks. 

There it is again, that low rumble in Jesse’s chest. Like a beast housed within a man. “Stay with me?” He asks with a hopeful expression. Hanzo feels a burst of warmth and affection in his chest. 

Jesse makes room for him while still lying on his front. The bed isn’t very large, especially with Jesse’s large muscular girth taking up the majority of it, but Hanzo manages to maneuver himself without jostling his wrapped ankle so that he was lying on his side, facing Jesse. 

“There’s still dust in your hair,” Hanzo says, patting his head. 

“I’ll take care of it later,” is all Jesse manages before he falls asleep once more. 

Hanzo does not sleep. He lies there, memorizing Jesse’s face, and traces the light cuts on his face. Underneath his searching fingers he can feel Jesse’s lips tilt into a small smile. 

The situation concerning Arakawa was dire, and his words worry Hanzo. He imagines a shadowy organization, the strength and number of its members unknown, but with the capabilities of compelling a man to do something against his wishes like mind control. 

It was as if with every step forward, they are placed two steps back. But there was nothing to be done about it at this moment. 

He holds Jesse and contemplates more pleasant thoughts, like this man who has somehow captivated him without trying. His life was in disarray with all the new catastrophes, but Jesse was unwaveringly present, stalwart and strong. 

The thought of Jesse eventually having to leave makes Hanzo feel a sharp pang of loneliness in his chest. 

As if sensing Hanzo’s internal distress, Jesse wraps an arm over Hanzo’s stomach. It doesn’t matter. For now Jesse was still here and he was determined to make the most out of it. 

\---

The Shimada Clan was under unofficial lockdown following the explosion, and Gotoh gathered the clan members extended further off closer together as a precaution. Hanzo sees Genji about more often now that he no longer has the freedom of coming and going as he pleased, yet Hanzo found himself involuntarily avoiding his brother. 

Hanzo was given strict instructions to rest his leg, and as such, father shifted his duties so that he would not have to leave his private rooms too often. Unable to move about too much, Hanzo was grateful for Jesse’s presence. They spent most of their days together pouring over theories to try to explain all the events that had occurred, and the constant fact checking through old reports and news to see what theory sticks was exhausting work. 

The evenings were much more pleasant. At first Jesse would retreat to his room every night, as a proper agent would. But like an addiction, they both could not help but desire more. Throughout the course of the week, small additions migrated into Hanzo’s space. His private bath had an additional toothbrush, a bottle of gun oil stood out against his uncluttered table, extra clothes and briefs neatly folded (Jesse actually just threw it in the corner, and it was Hanzo that folded it) in the closet, and a cowboy hat that seems to have found a permanent place on the corner room nightstand. 

Hanzo was certain by now that father knew what was going on between them, yet whenever he did see Gotoh, there was never any mention of it. Although he and Jesse tried to be as discreet as possible, the fact that they always had their meals together and the fact that Jesse was almost never in his own room did not go unnoticed. 

And every night, Hanzo and Jesse found their pleasure in each other. It was something Jesse looked forward to every evening. It wasn’t always sexual, too. More often than not, they would just chat--Hanzo talking about his mother, his frustrations about Genji, some of the assassin training drills he had to go through and the masters he learned from, a bit about his duties, and Jesse told Hanzo a bit about his own mother, long deceased, how his memories of her are vague at best and that he doesn’t know how much of it was imagined to fill in the blanks and how much was real. 

The subject of previous lovers was briefly touched upon. It came up after Jesse gave to what Hanzo felt like the best blowjob of his life. His toes and fingertips were still tingly from how hard he came. 

“You are very experienced,” Hanzo remarks, his breath finally evening out. They were lying on Hanzo’s futon together, side by side. “How many have you done this with?”

“Not as many as you’d think,” Jesse says, taking a deep drag from his cigarillo and tapping the ashes into an empty glass beside him. “A few flings here and there, never anything serious or long lasting. Overwatch keeps the life constantly moving. One day I might be in India, and the next day I’m being shipped out to Switzerland.” 

Hanzo reaches out a hand and Jesse passes over cigarillo. He takes a drag and coughs a bit. “This is harsh,” he says, giving it back. “Could you not find anything better?”

“It grows on ya,” Jesse says and stubs it out. “How bout you? Ever had anyone serious?” 

“No,” Hanzo says, getting up to close the window now that Jesse was done smoking. “Even “flings,” as you call it, were difficult. Everyone knows who I am and and there will always be those out there who would seek to use my affections for their own gains.” 

“And how ‘bout me?” 

Hanzo reaches over and pinches Jesse’s scruffy cheek. “You wear your heart on your face. I do not distrust you.” 

Jesse shakes his face loose and presses a dry kiss to Hanzo’s inner wrist. “I’ve traveled all over the world. It’s a busy life, but things are never dull,” he says, and captures Hanzo’s eyes with his. Hanzo could see small flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “I’ve seen some of the prettiest goddamn sights in the world, but nothing compares to you.” 

A rush of embarrassment lights up his face. “Don’t say something like that,” Hanzo says, turning away. 

Jesse's expression was both sly and amused. “Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. You are the most interesting and most attractive person I’ve ever met. Ever since I first laid eyes on you, you’ve been on my mind.”

Hanzo scoffs. “When we first met, I was prepared to riddle your body with arrows.” 

“Part of your charm,” Jesse says, laughing loudly. “Were you really going to shoot me?” 

“No, but I imagined it,” Hanzo says. Jesse rolls over and tucks his face into Hanzo’s neck, his facial hair scraping the skin as his body shook. 

Hanzo tugs at Jesse’s wild locks affectionately. “I am envious of you in some way,” he sighs into Jesse’s hair. “So unburdened by rules, and unconstrained by tradition.” 

“Would you ever want this type life? Overwatch would be thrilled to have someone of your skill,” Jesse says. 

Hanzo makes a noise of disagreement. “I cannot abandon the clan. The master of the Shimada-gumi is its heart, and without that that it would fall apart.” 

“That’s what you have to do, but what is it that you want?” It was like deja-vu, this particular question. Why was everyone so concerned about what he desires? In the end his choices are limited. 

But then again, Hanzo thinks, swallowing down a snappy reply, he would never thought to have someone like Jesse, so different and foreign, occupying his space, sharing his bed. 

“Will you ever come back to Japan once this is all over?” Hanzo asks. 

“I’m not given much free time, but if I am able to,” Jesse says, gripping Hanzo’s hand in his larger ones, “This would be the only place I’d want to be.”

Hanzo feels Jesse’s hand steadying him. He was certain that Jesse could feel his heart stuttering as he tried to come up with the right words in English. This would be easier in Japanese. 

Jesse had a good sense of when to talk and when to be quiet, and this was the latter. 

“Not long ago, I never imagined that I would ever have something like this. It is strangely fulfilling, and exciting in ways I’ve never felt before,” he says slowly. “It would be difficult and we would both have to be secretive about it but…” he turns and presses his face against Jesse’s, “...if you are willing, I would like to see this relationship continued.”

Jesse’s breath stilled. “I really thought you were gonna go break my heart just now, and I think you did anyway but not in a way that I was expecting.” 

“Speak plain English,” Hanzo says, feeling the prickle of embarrassment again. He felt exposed, his emotions and nerves on display. 

Jesse initiates a deep kiss. It was not a familiar kiss filled with lust and desire, but something deeper, as if Jesse was pouring his soul into it. 

“What that means is--I’ll do whatever I can to be with you. Even if it means I can only see you once a year, I don’t care. You’re more than worth it.”

Everything in Hanzo’s life had been planned out carefully since he was born. When to eat, when to train, who to meet, and the duties he would be eased into. There was a prescribed schedule, and Hanzo never felt its monotony until now. 

The American cowboy has turned everything on its head. Ever since he had arrived, Hanzo felt as if he was blown by strong winds and has now only found the eye of the storm. 

“There’s a lot on the line, and I almost wish that we’ll never get to the bottom of it if it means we get to have more moments like this,” Jesse says. “But I know Reyes well. I’ll be recalled eventually even if we don’t solve this.” 

“I understand that you have great skill, but are there not others your commanding officer could utilize in your stead?” 

“I’m more of a specialized set,” Jesse says. He pauses and wonders if now was the right moment to tell Hanzo about his other, scarier side. 

Only four people in the world knew about it, and one was already dead. Mother. Reyes. Ana. Angela. 

Sometimes Jesse thinks Hanzo was some kind of mind reader, because he seems to instantly know what’s causing Jesse’s distress. 

“I’ll trade with you one of my own secrets for yours,” Hanzo says. 

“I don’t know darlin’, ‘cause the one on my mind is pretty hard to compare to.”

Hanzo sits up. In the dimly lit room, Hanzo’s tattooed arm glows. Jesse tries not to freak out when what looks like two ethereal blue tinged dragons rise from beneath Hanzo’s skin and curls to the surface. 

The dragons coil over each other and around Hanzo’s arm briefly, but long enough for Jesse to see them in great detail before they sink back beneath the skin. 

“Wh-what,” Jesse stammers, wide-eyed. He was definitely not expecting this. 

“You should already know that the Shimada-gumi is associated with dragons,” Hanzo says. 

“I did, but I thought that was just a mascot!” Jesse exclaims. “I didn’t even know real dragons existed.” 

“They are spirits,” Hanzo explains. “Only those chosen in the Shimada line can carry one. They are passed down through the generations.” 

Hanzo allows Jesse to examine his arm, his fingertips tracing the skin to see if there were any burns. 

“Are you and the dragons the same person?” 

“That is the image I must convey, but no, we are not. The dragons are their own entity and allow me to summon them at will,” he says. “What you just saw was but a small fraction of what they are. Normally when they appear, it is to consume my enemies.” 

Jesse feels his draw drops. “They get bigger? My god darlin’, remind me to never get on your bad side. That doesn’t sound like a good way to go.”

Hanzo thinks back on the shredded bodies of his foes and their twisted limbs. “Yes, it certainly isn’t.”

“And I thought you couldn’t get any more amazing,” Jesse breathes. “You just keep blowing me away.” 

Hanzo feels a hint of embarrassment again at Jesse’s tendency for unrestrained praise, but accepts it all the same. 

“You accept the existence of a spiritual force so easily,” Hanzo says. It wasn’t necessarily a question, albeit he was curious for an answer. Usually those who saw it the first time were more gibbering in fear. Jesse’s reaction was very mild in comparison. 

“I’m familiar with the existence of the impossible,” Jesse says. 

Hanzo has a feeling that what Jesse was going to show him next was related to this. “I believe it is your turn now.”

Jesse glances around the room. “How soundproof is it here?” He asks. 

“Why do you ask?” 

“Because what I want to show you isn’t exactly quiet.” 

“My quarters does not carry sound anymore than a regular room would. It would take a loud shout or scream to draw attention, so no it is not sound proof.” 

“Ah, that makes this part difficult then,” Jesse says, hand worrying the scruff on his chin. He snaps his fingers. “Alright, I got it. It’s a bit difficult to maintain, but I’ll show you a partial.”

“A partial what?” 

Jesse doesn’t respond with words. His brows furrow in concentration. Hanzo feels his breathing stop as the golden flecks in Jesse’s eyes grow to envelope his entire iris, chasing away all tones of brown. The whites of his eyes darken to a an inky black. 

He hears sharp cracking noises, like a bundle of dry twigs being broken. He looks down and immediately tries not to feel ill. Jesse’s left hand contorts, the base breaking and reforming again, elongating. The fingers lengthen and grow, wickedly sharp black claws curving right beneath his eyes. The skin also changed, going from tan to a leathery greyish-black hue. 

Hanzo does his best to swallow his panic. The dragons in his arms stir in response to his emotional state. 

“It’s okay,” Jesse rumbles. His voice has also changed, a low vibrato and Hanzo feels more than hears. Jesse lifts the transformed hand and purposely keeps it relaxed as Hanzo reaches to examine it. 

“What are you?” Hanzo says when he finally manages to get his throat to work. 

“Most would call me a werewolf,” Jesse says, his fangs flashing. “But that ain’t entirely accurate.” Hanzo releases the hand as if burned when it contorts again, this time the shape turning back into something more human and recognizable. Jesse closes his eyes, and when he opens them, the inky black was chased away and his pupils are the familiar warm brown hue, its golden flecks small and contained. 

“Did I scare you?” Jesse’s face is worried. Maybe it was just an illusion, but Hanzo could’ve sworn that the beast was right beneath the surface of his skin, about to burst out once more. “I know you didn’t sign up to be with a monster…”

“It startled me,” Hanzo corrects. “And you are not a monster.” To prove this point, or maybe to prove it to Hanzo himself, he grabs Jesse’s previously altered hand and kisses it. “I can see why you were hesitant to show me this, however. How many people have seen this side of you?”

“Amongst the living? Three, and now four including you.” 

Hanzo had many questions itching on his tongue, and Jesse had ready responses for each of them. No, it was not something Jesse was made into, he was born this way. He got it from his Spanish side of the family. His mama was no wolf, but her mother was and so was her mother’s grandfather. It seemed to skip every other generation, though there wasn’t a real solid way of verifying that. 

What happened to his mother? “Killed in a gang war that spilled onto the streets,” Jesse says. “She was an accidental casualty.”

“And yet you joined a gang after?” Hanzo says incredulously.

“That’s life for ya,” Jesse says with a frown, unhappy with the subject. “Full of irony.”

Hanzo hastily changes the subject. “You mentioned that it would be inaccurate to label you such as a werewolf. What would you call yourself then?”

“I just call it the wolf. This isn’t lycanthropy. This can’t be transmitted through a bite, nor am I allergic to silver or transform during the full moon. I am what I am, and there was never an accurate name for it and I never searched for one.”

“I would like to see the full wolf one day,” Hanzo muses, reaching for Jesse. They wrap each other in a tight embrace. They had revealed many secrets to each other, and this was the culmination of it. Hanzo felt both foolish and oddly free to give someone so much power over him, yet Jesse has more than returned it in kind. 

“You’re secret is safe with me, Jesse,” Hanzo says, tightening his hold. “Shimada men are loyal and honorable. I will not betray your trust.”

“I know,” Jesse says, voice raw with emotion, “thank you, darlin’.”

They don’t sleep at all the rest of the night, too enraptured by the new revelations. They trace each other’s skin, relearning each other anew. Jesse has never fallen in love before, but he thinks this is probably what it feels like. 

No matter how much or little sleep he gets, the dragon always rises with the sun. Hanzo feels drawn out and exhausted, but light. Jesse had drifted off into sleep a couple hours before dawn. The lacerations on his back had healed abnormally quick despite not having the aid of nanobots, but at least it wasn’t a mystery now as to why. 

Hanzo had just finished his morning ablutions and grooming habits when Jesse’s eyes suddenly blink open. “I think you’re about to have a visitor,” he says. He reaches out to grab his pants and shimmies it on before pulling on his discarded shirt. He yawns widely. 

And sure enough there is a polite knock on his door. Hanzo waits for Jesse to pad into the bathroom before sliding it open and starts. It’s his father. 

Hanzo thinks Jesse must’ve realized this too, because the small clattering noises in the bathroom immediately ceased. 

“Father,” Hanzo says, quickly schooling his surprise. “I expected a summons. Has something happened?”

“No, but in light of your recent reports to me, I think I may have found a lead. May I come in?” Gotoh asks, peering over Hanzo’s shoulder. Hanzo hopes that there was nothing too incriminating in the room. Even though Hanzo is almost certain that Gotoh knows about Jesse, that doesn’t mean that he wants to wave it in front of his face. Discretion is a thing valued. 

Gotoh and Hanzo settle themselves on in front of the low wooden table at the center of the room.  
“How is your ankle, my son?”

Hanzo taps his tightly wrapped foot. “It is healing quickly. It aches a bit, though no more than usual.”

Gotoh shifts to the side and pulls out a red scarf from underneath him. He makes no fanfare of it, merely setting it aside. Hanzo restrains himself from smacking his face. He needs to enforce stricter neatness rules on Jesse, especially if he was going to be staying in Hanzo’s room more often. 

They were speaking in Japanese, but now Gotoh switches to English. “I have some news that the both of you will be interested. Please come join us, Agent McCree.”

There was a crash from the bathroom. Hanzo couldn’t help it anymore, the ridiculousness of the entire debacle was too much to handle. He plants his face in his hand and groans. 

Jesse walks out with a sheepish expression, still dressed in his sleep shirt and worn sweatpants, his hair mussed. He was as unprofessional looking as one could be in front of the master of the Shimada-gumi, but there was nothing to be done about it. He flops down next to Hanzo, who still has yet to raise his head. 

The calculating look Gotoh gives him is rather terrifying, but nobody could make Jesse break into a cold sweat like Reyes could when Jesse does something stupid enough to get a full-blown lecture. Especially when that lecture involves a shotgun and an itchy trigger finger. Gotoh got nothing on an angry Reyes. Even golden boy Jack Morrison knew to stay clear of Reyes’ war path.

“Good morning, Shimada-san,” Jesse drawls cheerily. “How can I be of assistance today?”

“ _I see_ ,” Gotoh says, glancing between Jesse and his son. “ _When I told you that you should find out what you desire, this was not what I had in mind_.”

“ _Father, can we please talk about this privately_?” Hanzo begs. 

Gotoh ignores him. “ _But I suppose it could’ve been worse_. Agent McCree,” Gotoh says, now addressing Jesse, who straightened at his name. “I’m sure it is not lost on you the dangers of being associated with this family, especially with its future heir. You are an Overwatch agent, and so I must question your motives towards my son.”

“I wouldn’t do a thing to harm Hanzo,” Jesse protests. 

“You might not, but what of your organization? It has dismantled many empires like ours already, and I am no fool as to know that the Shimada-gumi is somewhere on the list.”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you, sir,” Jesse says. “I don’t call the shots in Overwatch nor am I privy to a lot of the confidential information. Matter of security, I’m sure you understand. What I can tell you though is that if I can, I would protect your son at all costs.”

“Even if it means betraying your own organization?” Gotoh asks, not pulling the punches with his line of questioning. 

Jesse hesitates to voice this, but he’s on the spot and he prays this doesn’t somehow get his Blackwatch privileges revoked and his ass thrown into jail. “If it means keeping Hanzo out of harm’s way, yes, a thousand times over. But let me make it clear that this does not extend to the Shimada Clan as a whole. I believe in the goals of my organization, but I also believe in Hanzo.”

“What a problematic paradox to reconcile,” Gotoh says, “But I do not doubt your sincerity. Very well,” he says, standing up. Hanzo and Jesse follow suit. “I appreciate your honesty Agent McCree. I trust in my child’s judgment, as all fathers must in the end. I hope that trust is not misplaced.” 

“That will be solely for Hanzo to decide,” Jesse says. Gotoh gives Jesse an unreadable look as Hanzo escorts his father out. Jesse hears them say something to each other in Japanese before he leaves. 

“I don’t know how you did it, bumbling as you did, but I believe you have earned a modicum of my father’s respect,” Hanzo says, stealing one of Jesse’s cigarillos and a lighter. He walks to the window and shoves it open. “A difficult task, one that many have tried to do and consequently failed.”

“Just sticking to my guns,” Jesse says, leaning against Hanzo and lighting his own smoke. “He really loves you, y’know.” He inhales deeply and taps the ashes against the outer sill. “The heart doesn’t lie.”

Hanzo feels his brows shoot up. “You were listening to his heartbeat?”

“Yeah,” Jesse says. “Every time I said your name he held his breath and his pulse would beat a bit quicker. Your old man could’ve been a poker player champ.”

“He’s an excellent shogi player,” Hanzo says. Jesse chuckles. “I don’t know what that is, but I doubt it’s the same thing.”

Hanzo is silent for a moment. “It was foolish, what you said to my father.”

“Which part?” Jesse says defensively. 

“About betraying your organization. Betraying Overwatch. Why would you do that for a crime lord’s son, especially since you professed your belief in Overwatch’s ideals?”

“I do believe in Overwatch’s goals but I don’t always agree with the method,” Jesse says. 

“Eventually your organization will be nipping at the heels of my family’s empire, finding ways to tear it apart. When that happens, where will you stand?”

Jesse blows out a large plume of smoke. “I don’t know darlin’. But I meant it, what I told your father.” Jesse looks Hanzo dead in the eye. “If there’s any way I can save you, I would. Even if that means breaking you out of prison and becoming a fugitive for the rest of my days.”

“Foolish ideals,” Hanzo says, smashing out the cigarillo hard against the window sill. “Don’t make declarations you can’t keep.”

“Do you really believe I don’t care for you enough to do that?” Jesse asks angrily. “I’ve told you more about myself than I’ve ever told anyone in my life!”

“And I have done the same,” Hanzo says mildly. 

Jesse makes a frustrated noise and cards his fingers roughly through his mussed hair. “Let’s put this in a different perspective then. If your father came back in here and told you to take me out there into the courtyard and shoot me dead, would you?”

Hanzo makes a “pah!” noise. “He wouldn’t.”

“Alright, then how about your clan elders? I’ve never met them, but I know they’re a central part of the Shimada Clan. If they told you, kill me or leave, what would you do?”

“Don’t ask about impossible scenarios,” Hanzo says.

“Now that’s just being evasive,” Jesse presses. He grips Hanzo by the shoulders. “If your elders told you to kill me—”

“Cease your questions—”

“—murder me in cold blood out on them flagstones, or abandon your clan forever—”

“—enough! I don’t know!” Hanzo shouts. Jesse drops his arms as if burned. Hanzo has never risen his voice at him before. “I don’t know what I would do,” Hanzo repeats, almost a whisper. He was visibly upset. 

Jeses’s anger deflated instantly and now he felt hollow and like a complete ass. “Hanzo, I’m sorry—”

“Enough,” Hanzo interrupts, putting up a hand to silence him. “I don’t want to hear your apologies right now. We have other matters to attend to today.”

Great, now Hanzo was in a sour mood. After last night too...Jesse felt a heavy pit in his stomach. It’s like they can’t have one full day of happiness before something comes by and throws a socket wrench in it. 

They both glance at the forgotten folder Gotoh had left on the table for them.

“So what’s the lead?” Jesse asks once Hanzo finishes perusing through the contents. They sat a respectable distance away from each other. When Jesse had reached out to touch Hanzo, he had evaded it. That stung smartly. 

“My initial hunch was correct in that Arakawa was not the only Shimada member to be compromised. We have reports from our other branches that people have been disappearing, but infrequently enough as to not raise suspicion. All were individual cases until recently with the attack on our shipments.”

“Is there something tying this all together?”

“I’m getting there,” Hanzo says. “The streets outside of Hanamura have been quieter. The number of other, smaller, gangs have decreased substantially.”

“Isn’t there a lot of police and government involvement in cracking down on street gangs?” Jesse asks, remembering his research. “Organizations like yours are spared from it because of your semi-legal status and influence, but that leniency isn’t shared amongst many others.”

“That is true, but that does not explain how whole gangs, some even a hundred member strong, disappear overnight without a trace. No police reports or court cases indicate the government’s involvement. It also doesn’t explain why their immediate relatives disappear too, even the children.”

“Okay, that is pretty damn suspicious. How do we check this out?”

“That’s the problem. Because everyone simply vanishes, there is no one to question,” Hanzo says. “The only one we had was Arakawa, and that’s not an option anymore.”

“By the way,” Jesse says, “What did Arakawa say to you right before he exploded?”

“He said…” Hanzo gathers his thoughts. “He said that he was forced to murder his wife and child. Something about not being able to control his own body, even though he was conscious the entire time.”

Jesse’s mouth drops as something dawns behind his eyes. “Fuck. And you couldn’t tell me this earlier?”

“You didn’t ask,” Hanzo says waspishly. 

Jesse curses in a language that was not English. “I think I know who’s behind this. You don’t have an omnic problem on your hands. This is beyond that. I knew that factory felt like some kind of cover-up…” he breaks off, muttering to himself.

“Jesse,” Hanzo says, exhaustion evident in his voice. “I can’t read your mind despite what you may think. Share your findings with me. In words.”

“Have you ever heard of Talon?” Jesse asks. 

Hanzo shakes his head. “It’s a terrorist organization, rather prolific. So far we thought they were only operating in Europe and the American southwest, but I think what we’re seeing here is an expansion effort into Asia.”

“What is their purpose?” Hanzo asks. 

“We don’t know what they’re trying to accomplish,” Jesse says, “but Overwatch has been trying to combat them for years. Hell, one of our own, the man who spearheaded the most successful counterattacks on them, was assassinated by his own wife after they kidnapped her.”

The connection hits Hanzo immediately. “Like Arakawa, she was brainwashed?”

“Complete neural reconditioning,” Jesse elaborates. “She became someone else. Nothing of her old self exists anymore.” 

“And where is she now?” Hanzo asks. 

“One of Talon’s top agents. Deadly with a sniper rifle. Doesn’t miss very often.” 

“And what the mass kidnappings here? Is that a common practice with this particular terrorist group?” 

“They’ve done some, and we believe that’s actually how they recruit their top agents, like Amelie. This is just a guess, but recently Overwatch managed to shut down one of their headquarters in Serbia. I was there for it, and let me tell you, the shit they were doing to people there…” Jesse closes his eyes and tries not to remember the smell of blood and various chemical concoctions, the chairs with metal cuffs and wicked looking devices with needles all over, the bloodied scalpels, and various tubes…

Jesse opens his eyes again and sees Hanzo’s concerned face. “What I’m trying to get at is that we took out a lot of their foot soldiers. _A lot_. They’ve been reconditioned to the point of no return, and...I couldn’t get all the blood out from beneath my nails for days. Peacekeeper had to be completely dismantled to be cleaned.”

“You massacred them,” Hanzo says. He can imagine clearly, as if he were there as a witness-Jesse covered from head to toe in gore, his wicked wolfish grin gone, face somber, and hollow sorrowful eyes. “That does not sound like Overwatch at all.”

“It isn’t,” Jesse says, his throat dry. “I’m part of a faction of it called Blackwatch. We’re called in to the dirty work, and hell that’s why I’m even here. A lot of times you can’t fight injustice effectively by following the rule of law, blocked by all that red tape. Overwatch has a public image to maintain and I ain’t a part of that.”

The angry righteous dragon he was earlier shrinks to nothingness, and in its place is sympathy and a need to care. Hanzo puts an arm around Jesse’s broad shoulder and huddles next to him.

“I thought of it as mercy killing, and I still do,” Jesse says. “If I was ever caught by them and my mind was twisted till it ain’t me no more, just a killing machine blindly following orders, forced to murder the people I love...I would rather die.”

Hanzo imagines himself shooting an arrow through Jesse’s heart and upsets himself thoroughly at the thought of it. Would he be able to let that arrow fly?

“Anyhow, this is just a hunch, but maybe that raid and the kidnappings over here are related. They need more people to replenish the troops we took out, and if there were already plans of expanding here in Japan, then why not recondition people that no one will miss? Who in their right mind would complain about a gang suddenly going missing? Hell, most ordinary people would rejoice.”

“And their families go missing too as a way to cover their tracks. With no one to complain and put this in the public eye, there would be virtually little if no attention drawn to their deeds.” Hanzo finishes. 

Jesse stands up and lets Hanzo’s embrace fall away. “Maybe Arakawa’s reconditioning wasn’t done very well, which was why he was killed. Except he somehow managed to survive long enough to tell us what we needed to know. I need to go report this immediately.”

“And what else do you advise we do?” Hanzo asks. “How can I protect my clan?”

Jesse gives him a sad look. “I’m going to talk to Commander Reyes about this, and we’ll see what he says.”

\---

“I feel like every time you contact me, it’s bad news,” Reyes says over the private Blackwatch comm link. 

“Sorry, boss,” Jesse says. “I wish I could be a bottle of sunshine, but you might just turn to dust.”

“You little shit,” Reyes says, though Jesse knows Reyes is smiling. This was in reference to Halloween a few years ago when he decided to dress up as Van Helsing, but kept being mistaken as a vampire. The next year he gave up on that idea and was a scary pumpkin instead. No one ever let him live that down though, at least the ones with the guts to do so. 

“Anyhow, other than this shit storm, how’d Siberia go?”

“Not too many casualties, though clean-up was a bitch. Got some complaints from residents and the local bureaucrats about environmental and property damage, but what more do they want? They wouldn’t be able to waste their breath complaining at all if we weren’t there to save their useless asses.” Reyes growled and Jesse hears what sounds like Reyes kicking over the metal wastebasket in his office. 

“Most of the clean-up has been handled, body bags all accounted for. Just minor shit for the grunts to take care of. I’ll gather some Blackwatch reinforcements and see you in Japan in three or four days.” 

“Ya’ll coming by? I haven’t got a clue if there is even a Talon base here, or where if there is one.” 

“Leave that to me, ingrate,” Reyes says. “You don’t have all the resources at your disposal for that, which makes me all the more impressed over how far you’ve managed to uncover without it. Good work.”

“Thanks, boss. Do you want me to warn the yakuza heads over here about your arrival?” 

“No need. I’ll be contacting the master of the clan after I gather some bodies and the right paperwork. I’ll keep in touch.” 

The comm signal ends. Jesse doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or not. He was completely out of his element here and was glad for the belated backup, but at the same time, it was also an indication that his time here was drawing to a close. 

Later that evening, it is Hanzo who comes to Jesse’s room with a gourd full of sake. Hanzo limps a bit, favoring his uninjured right leg. Jesse eyes him. “You should consider just using a crutch darlin’. Even though you aren’t putting too much pressure on it, you’re still walking on it. You want your ankle to heal crooked?”

Hanzo scoffs. “That’s not how it works.”

Jesse smiles and slides the door shut behind Hanzo. “I’m just messing with ya. That for me?”  
Hanzo sits on Jesse’s bed and settles the gourd beside him. “It’s better than that swill you had,” Hanzo says. 

“Now I’m insulted,” Jesse says. “Only an unrefined man would call whiskey ‘swill.’” The bed dips as he sits besides Hanzo.

The silence is heavy between them. It was clear that Hanzo didn’t mean what he said about the drink. It was just something to say.

“So are we going to do this again? Drink and bring each other off? Or are we going to talk about this like grown ass men.”

Hanzo wrinkles his nose at Jesse’s vulgarity. It was still not something he’s grown accustomed to. 

“I’ve heard from my father that your commanding officer and some fellow agents will be arriving in a few days.” 

“Yeah,” Jesse says. “Turns out there’s no way this can possibly be resolved without more players in the game.” 

“And once this is over, I assume you will be leaving with them?” Hanzo’s voice is even and cool.

“That’s right,” Jesse says, unable to contain the sadness in his voice. “You still mad? Hanzo?”

Hanzo relocates the sake gourd on the floor and maneuvers Jesse so that he was laying flat on the bed. Hanzo lies beside him. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” he says, his calm facade cracking. “I wish for the impossible.”

“Hey now,” Jesse says, pulling Hanzo close. “I ain’t gone yet. We still have a few more days together before some of the heavy shit goes down. And even after, does the offer still stand? Do you want to continue this no matter the obstacles?”

“I do,” Hanzo says. He moves so that he now lies on top of Jesse, his long black hair curtaining both sides of his face. “Tomorrow there will be a _matsuri_ in Hanamura. It is a regional festival specific to Hanamura, and it is to say farewell to the end of the sakura bloom. Would you like to go?”

“I’m not one to follow the rules, but aren’t we in lockdown?”

“Technically, yes. But no one will notice if we leave for a couple hours.”

“Should I consider this a date?” Jesse asks with amusement.

“If you would like to, then yes.” Hanzo scratches Jesse underneath his scruffy chin and Jesse rumbles with pleasure. He reaches up and palms Hanzo’s smooth face. 

“You ever consider growing your own facial hair?” Jesse asks. “Not that you don’t look hot already, but I think you could pull it off well.”

Hanzo nips Jesse’s thumb and gives it a suck. All the blood from Jesse’s head shoots straight down to his groin. “I want you tonight,” Hanzo says. Like a snake he quickly moves down and unzips Jesse’s pants. Before he knows it, there Hanzo is, licking his cock as it rises underneath his wet searching tongue. 

“How do you want me?” Jesse manages to garble out, and throws his head back when Hanzo sucks him all the way down. He looks down and nearly loses it at the sight of Hanzo, his proud Hanzo, sucking cock, cheeks hollowing in and out, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be. 

“In me. I want you in me.” 

Jesse thinks there must be something wrong with his hearing. “You sure darlin’? You don’t have to. I don’t mind bottoming if you’d prefer that.” 

“Jesse,” Hanzo says, his breath hot against Jesse’s dick. “That was not what I asked for.” The look he gave Jesse was positively smoldering. 

Well, there’s no way Jesse could deny that request. Hanzo had the best bedroom eyes and knew how to use it. 

In Jesse’s fog lust brain, he doesn’t even know where Hanzo got the lube or the condom packet from. “Took it from Genji’s room. I’m sure he won’t miss it,” Hanzo mutters. He sees Hanzo about to lube his own fingers when he says, “Wait, let me do it?” 

Hanzo hands it over. Jesse can see that his dick was half-hard. Well, Jesse knew the remedy for that. “Turn around,” Jesse commands, and Hanzo obliges, excited by the desire in his voice. 

Hanzo lets Jesse maneuver him till he was kneeling on all fours, his elbows lowered so that his ass jutted out. Jesse spreads his cheeks and Hanzo’s face burns with embarrassment. He felt entirely exposed. He buries his hot face into the cool sheets. 

The press of a finger circling the tip of the ring was familiar, and so was the inevitable press. The second finger filled him up, and it wasn’t until the third finger that he felt the burn. Hanzo didn’t even realize the breathy moans he was making. Pre-come dripped onto the sheets. 

It made Hanzo feel full already, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to take Jesse’s cock. Jesse was a large man all over. 

“Oh darlin’, you are amazing,” Jesse praises, pressing a kiss to the base of Hanzo’s spine. His fingers squelch in and out obscenely as it scissors Hanzo open, stretching him so wide. 

Hanzo grinds against Jesse’s fingers, relishing the slight pain. “I’m ready, give it to me now.” 

“Ohhh, I love it when you order me around,” Jesse says, removing his fingers. Hanzo hears Jesse ripping open the condom package. 

“Tell me if I need to stop,” Jesse breathes against Hanzo’s ear as he slowly pushes in. Jesse fights not to come from overexcitement. The sight of the head his cock pushing past the ring was almost too much. 

Hanzo’s breath stilled. “Breathe darlin’,” Jesse says, running his hands down Hanzo’s ribs like he was calming a spooked horse. 

Hanzo moans as Jesse continues to slide in, all the way until he hits the base. Both of them are breathing hard. He felt so full, and the heat was almost unbearable. 

“ _Move_ ,” Hanzo says, rotating his hips. Jesse, figuring Hanzo would have no problems telling him if it’s too much, takes him by the hips and thrusts. It startles a loud sound from Hanzo. 

“Alright?” Jesse pants. Hanzo nods. “Don’t stop.”

They find a rhythm together, Jesse thrusting in and out, Hanzo’s hands gripping the sheets tightly and his hips snapping back. 

Jesse tries thrusting at slightly different angles until he finds what he’s looking for when Hanzo’s entire body stiffens and his eyes go wide. 

Jesse grins. He found it. He keeps thrusting at that same angle. Hanzo feels a jolt of electric pleasure each time the tip of Jesse’s cock hits him right there, and he couldn’t contain the sounds pouring from his mouth. 

“Now, now,” Jesse says, leaning over and pushing two fingers into Hanzo’s lax mouth. “I don’t want anyone to come by and interrupt us. How bout you put that pretty mouth to use.” 

Hanzo moans around Jesse’s fingers and sucks on it hard. 

Jesse feels sweat stinging his eyes when Hanzo’s body stiffens one more time and he comes hard against the sheets, his dick completely untouched. 

That was too much for Jesse to handle. Hanzo bites his fingers and he groans as he comes, blackspots in dancing in vision. He drapes himself across Hanzo’s strong back for a moment to catch his breathe before he slides out to take off the condom. 

Hanzo collapses on his side, avoiding the wet spot on the bed. Jesse ties the condom and tosses it on the floor. He’ll deal with it later. He joins Hanzo. 

They lazily kiss, uncaring of how dirty they were. Normally Hanzo would find the feel of sweaty skin sticking together disgusting, but with Jesse it was incredibly pleasing. 

“Since we only have only a few more days of this, I think we should do it as much as we can to make up for all the months I’m going to be missing you,” Jesse says sweetly. Hanzo smacks his smart mouth. Ridiculous American. His ridiculous fool. 

Jesse kept Hanzo as long as he could in bed, the both of them necking like horny teenagers. But Hanzo was a fastidious dragon, and smacked Jesse’s arms until he let him up. Jesse pouted until Hanzo gave him a sultry look over his shoulder and asked if he would like to join him. 

They ended up wasting all the hot water when Jesse went down on Hanzo and wrung out a second orgasm. It was worth it to see Hanzo’s dazed expression. 

The bed was a mess and neither had the energy to strip and change the sheets. They unrolled a nicely padded futon from the closet and took the pillows from the bed as well as the one clean blanket. Not that the blanket was really needed. Jesse draped himself over Hanzo, and his warmth lulled Hanzo into a deep dreamless sleep. 

Hanzo is the first to wake in the morning, as usual, and retreats back to his rooms after giving Jesse a quick kiss on the head. He easily avoids Jesse’s grabby hands, and doesn’t budge when Jesse whines for him to come back. “I’ll be back probably before you wake,” Hanzo says with unrestrained affection. He knows Jesse’s bad habit of sleeping in until closer to noon if there was nothing that forced him to be up early. A lazy wolf.

Back in his clean room, he opened up his closet and dug out all the yukatas he had. Jesse was taller than him by half a head, and his shoulders were broader. Of the three yukatas he owned, two were designed to fit him, but the other was a gift from an honored family. It was slightly too big, and Hanzo hoped this would do. 

He folded it up neatly and found a box to put it in. No need for anyone to see him bringing this to Jesse’s room lest questions be asked. If they fit, then sandals would be easy to acquire for Jesse’s large feet. He imagines Jesse wearing the yukata with his regular cowboy boots and laughs to himself over the image. A chaotic clash between east and west.

As he folds up his own chosen yukata, there is a knock on the door frame. Hanzo hoped it wasn’t a surprise visit from father again, though at least Jesse wasn’t hiding in the bathroom this time. 

He opens it, and just as he was surprised to see father, he is now surprised to see Genji at the other end.

His hair was still bright green. “Good morning, brother,” Hanzo says. “I’m surprised to see you up so early. Was there something you needed?”

“Did you go through my stuff last night?” Genji asks. Hanzo feels his face freeze. 

“What makes you think that?” Hanzo says. He moves aside and lets Genji in. If Genji was going to find out, better it happened within an enclosed space and not out in the hallway. 

“The servants wouldn’t dare go through my stuff, and the only two people I know who would enter my room is father and you. I’m pretty sure father has no need for condoms and lube,” Genji says with a grimace. 

“Please, brother,” Hanzo says, grimacing too. “There isn’t a good time for such thoughts.”

“Something we both agree on,” Genji says. “If not father, the only other culprit is you.”

“Are you here to admonish me?” Hanzo asks, seeing no point in denying it. “Because I highly doubt you’ll want the condom back now.”

Genji’s jaw drops. “Are you sick brother? Have you been poisoned? Unless my ears deceive me, you just made joke.”

Hanzo sputters. “Is it so uncharacteristic that you must point it out?”

“Yes!” Genji exclaims. “Not only that, but the fact that you actually went out and slept with someone! I thought you would only allow that to happen when you got married off.”

“Genji,” Hanzo says warningly. “I am not a robot. I have needs too. I am just more discreet than your playboy lifestyle. This is also not a conversation I am particularly keen to be having with you.” 

“Well you should’ve thought about that before you starting taking my stuff without asking!”

Hanzo weighs his options and is favoring the idea of simply throwing his brother out. Genji isn’t a little boy anymore, but Hanzo was still the more skilled of the two. 

“What is this really about brother? I doubt you are angry over such easily replaceable items,” Hanzo says. 

“It’s the principle of the thing. I’m irritated that you took something without my permission, but also glad that you’ve finally relaxed enough to go get yourself a piece of ass,” Genji says gleefully.

Hanzo looks up at the ceiling. How is it that he is surrounded by such vulgar people? Was there truly no escape from this?

“Sooo,” Genji drawls out, a mischievous taunting brother. “Who is it that caught your eye? Considering you haven’t left home for over a week now, it has to be someone here. There are some cute servant girls who I know have a crush on you. Is it one of them?”

This was the first time Hanzo had heard about any of the servants crushing on him. Not that it matters though, especially now. There was no one comparable to Jesse. 

Hanzo exercises his right of silence. Sometimes that was the only way to deal with Genji.

“Oh my god,” Genji says. He is practically giddy. “Is it? Is it Miko-chan? Or perhaps Akane-chan?”

“How familiar are you with our servants?” Hanzo asks, not recognizing any of those names. 

“I know practically the entire household staff,” Genji says. “They’re really nice and it’s always good to have them on your side.”

“I was unaware you have acquainted yourself with them so deeply,” Hanzo says. Genji was gone most of the day, every day, and Hanzo never figured he would have the time for such familiarity with those at home.

“Hmm...Sakura-chan told passed me a juicy piece of gossip a few days ago. She was sweeping the hallway when she heard noises coming from your room. You know,” Genji waggles his brow, “lewd noises.” Something suddenly catches his interest from over Hanzo’s shoulder. He makes a beeline for it. 

“Genji, you test my patience—”

“—are you going out on a date? Why is your festival yukata out—”

“—alright, it’s time for you to leave brother—”

“—oh ho! How sneaky of you brother. I didn’t peg you for one to break the rules. But I suppose you could get away with it since no one would think to monitor _you_ —”

“—Genji, put that down—”

“—is this a gift? This is too big to fit a girl...oh my _god_ —” Genji stares at Hanzo in complete shock. “You’re fucking the _American agent_? I thought you _hated him_. This is the best thing that’s happened ever since the lockdown!”

“Yes Genji, why don’t you shout it louder so that everyone in the castle can hear you!”

Not only was Hanzo going to throw Genji out on his ass, but he was going to get that smirk off his face by wiping the floor with him. It has been a long time since they last sparred, and perhaps now was the time to remind Genji why Hanzo was _never_ second best. 

“Put away your scary face brother,” Genji laughs, flitting around the edges of the room like an overly energetic sparrow. “You look like you’re about to take me out to the dojo.”

“And when was the last time you stepped into the dojo? Broken ankle or not, I’m sure I can still teach you a thing or two,” Hanzo says. 

“Uh-uh,” Genji says. “That isn’t a game I want to play. But I’m sure if you ask Agent McCree, he’ll be readily happy to let you teach him something special.” Genji throws a saucy wink.

Hanzo lunges at Genji. Genji laughs as he ducks under Hanzo’s arm and makes a quick roll towards the door and dashes out.

Hanzo rubs the bridge of his nose. 

“By the way,” Genji says, popping his head in from the open door. He had run back after seeing that Hanzo would not give chase. “I’m happy for you brother. Truly. I’ve never seen you so unburdened before. If Agent McCree has helped you find some peace in your heart, then I will personally thank him for that.” It was startling to see Genji, in one of those rare moments, as an actual adult.

Hanzo feels his annoyance melt away. He knew Genji didn’t mean any harm, and was only playing with him. It is his brother’s nature, and Hanzo wishing Genji to be more serious was perhaps an unfair wish and burden. He was beginning to see what their father meant about caging birds. 

“Thank you, brother,” Hanzo says. 

Genji winks at him and flits out of sight. 

Hanzo neatly refolds the yukatas Genji had mussed and contemplates his and his brother’s relationship. It was by no means perfect, but this is the first time since they were children that things ended on a relatively pleasant note. 

\---

Since Jesse had nothing better to do with his time now, and he wanted to calm the flutter in his belly at the thought of going out on an actual date with the handsomest man he’s ever been with, he decides to catch up on some reading. 

Hanzo is surprised to see Jesse awake when he arrives with a small package in hand. “Going over more reports?” Hanzo asks, setting the package aside.

“Nah, just some good reading. I love the classics,” Jesse drawls, flipping the page on his holopad. Hanzo glances at the text and squints. “Is that in English?”

“It’s Shakespearean English,” Jesse corrects. The befuddled look on Hanzo’s face is cute. “Never heard of him?”

“Of course I’ve heard of Shakespeare,” Hanzo says, remembering his lessons on classic Western literature. “I am, however, unfamiliar with his works.”

“This here is _The Merchant of Venice_ ,” Jesse says, and he gets up. He clears his throat a bit, and gives Hanzo an elegant bow, like a stage performer. “Here’s a small part of Gratiano’s line to Shylock:

> Thou almost mak’st me waver in my faith,  
>  To hold opinion with Pythagoras  
>  That souls of animals infuse themselves  
>  Into the trunks of men. They currish spirit  
>  Govern’d a wolf, who--hang’d for human slaughter--  
>  Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,  
>  And whilst thou layest in thy unhallow’d dam  
>  Infus’d itself in thee; for thy desires  
>  Are wolfish, bloody, starv’d, and ravenous.” 

Hanzo is enraptured by the sound of Jesse’s voice as he reads the lines out loud, following the natural rhythm of the words. Hanzo doesn’t pretend to understand everything that was said, the old English too unfamiliar to his ears, but he likes how the words roll smoothly off Jesse’s lips, no hint of a stutter, each word like a steady beat. He reads too with emotion, and his face imitates the character’s contempt and anger with precision. 

And like turning on and off a switch, Jesse’s facial expression relaxes and the character falls away. He looks at the holopad. “Not a very noble use of a metaphorical wolf here, but it make sense. Western literature hasn’t traditionally been very kind to us wolves,” he says wryly. 

Hanzo’s expression is still stunned. “I did not know that you were such an excellent actor,” he says.

Jesse’s cheeks takes on a hint of a color. “Aw shucks darlin’. It’s nothing though.”

“In Japanese folklore, we have tales of the _okami_ , a mountain wolf, that can be both benevolent and malevolent. It can judge the heart of a man, whether he be good or bad, and will protect the former while mauling the latter,” Hanzo says. “To kill a wolf is to invite divine retribution.”

“It’s nice to know that wolves have some respect in other cultures. I definitely prefer that,” Jesse smiles, the golden flecks in his eyes flashing. 

Hanzo could already draw the comparisons in his mind, his Jesse to the okami. Both honorable and noble creatures for the most part, but also capable of great violence. 

“What do you have there?” Jesse says, nodding at the package still in Hanzo’s hand. Ah, he had forgotten he was holding it, so caught up he was in Jesse’s little rendition.

“It is for you to try,” Hanzo says, removing it and shakes it out. “Yukatas are traditionally worn during festivals. It is not required to dress as such, but I’d like to show you more of my culture. If this does not fit you, then we’ll simply go without it,” he says. 

Jesse strips. He did not make it teasing or particularly alluring in anyway, yet Hanzo still feels overly warm with each inch of bared skin. His backside was still a bit sore from last night, and the memories of how it became so were incredibly vivid in his mind. 

As he shucks off his pants, Jesse tries to hide a grin. He could smell Hanzo’s arousal from here, but figured it’d be better to let Hanzo come to him. He didn’t want to paw at Hanzo like a horny animal. His man was very dignified and proper. 

But Hanzo made it real difficult to resist, the way his dark eyes slid hot and heavy all over him. Hanzo helps him slip onto the yukata, and ties the sash for him. 

The material was light and a bit stiff, but not uncomfortable. The sleeves billowed loosely, and although the shoulders stretched a bit tight when Jesse flexed, it was not terrible. The length hit him at the ankles. 

“How do I look?” Jesse asks. Hanzo walks around him and appraises. The yukata itself was dark blue with two thick black vertical stripes in the pattern, and thinner grey lines. The sash was a solid cool grey. It was a mild enough color to not clash against Jesse’s tan skin and brown hair. The long vertical lines were pleasing, and it made Jesse look sleek and even taller than he already was. 

“Excellent,” Hanzo says, rubbing his palms over Jesse’s shoulders. Unable to resist anymore, Jesse swiftly bent his head to capture Hanzo’s lips in a kiss. 

“And where’s yours?” He asks, licking Hanzo’s teeth. Hanzo allows a few more wet kisses before pulling away. 

“Patience,” he says. “You will see.”

Maybe it was due to father’s influence, but there was not much for Hanzo to do today. He allows himself a lazy slow day with Jesse. They trade amusing stories and jokes, Hanzo recites some of his favorite poetry, and Jesse croons to him some smooth rich songs in Spanish. He had a pleasantly deep voice and could carry a good tune. 

The hours passed by quicker than Hanzo realized, until it was time for them to go. Jesse’s stomach rumbles. “There will be plenty of food at the festival,” Hanzo says. “Save your appetite for then.”

Hanzo helps Jesse into his yukata again before changing into his own. Jesse managed to get in a few good gropes. Really, Hanzo was too irresistible.

Jesse almost wishes they weren’t going to the festival, because Hanzo looked absolutely divine in his yukata and the wilder part of him wanted to rip it off and take Hanzo right now on the floor. The yukata was a solid dark blue, darker than Jesse’s, and had a detailed white tracing of a dragon over the right sleeve with swirly golden colored clouds in the backdrop. The length of the sleeves hit Hanzo slightly above the wrist, and so a bit of the dragon tattoo was visible on his left arm. A golden colored sash completed the ensemble. 

“Here,” Hanzo says, and throws a pair of slippers on the floor. “I believe these should fit.”

“I can’t wear my boots?” Jesse asks as he toes the slippers on. It felt kind of strange, especially since he could feel the texture of the ground through the soles. It was much thinner than he was used to. 

“You have a worrying obsession with those boots,” Hanzo says with amusement. 

“Hey, it’s all part of the image. If I’m going to be a gunslinging cowboy, I ought to look the part.”  
Hanzo gives a heavy sigh and goes to open the window wide. It was much more difficult to climb while wearing a yukata, and Jesse felt like if anyone looked up they would be able to see his saucy bits no problem, but they manage. Hanzo certainly did it with much more grace.

Jesse was glad to see that Hanzo’s ankle didn’t seem to be bothering him anymore. It was still wrapped tightly in a dark mesh material, but at least the flesh was no longer swollen. 

“Take it easy darlin,’” Jesse says as they look down from the roof. It was about a twenty-five foot drop to land on the other side of the wall surrounding Shimada Castle. It was something Hanzo could normally handle with ease, but his weak ankle made him hesitate. 

“I got this,” Jesse says. “C’mon, climb onto my back.”

“You are not going to jump down with me on you,” Hanzo says with alarm. 

“It’s either that or I jump down first and you fall into my arms,” Jesse says. “Take your pick, because I ain’t letting you leap off this roof with that foot of yours.”

Jesse is resolute and will not budge. Hanzo gives up and climbs onto Jesse’s back, his arm tightening over his shoulders, and Jesse’s strong arms supporting him underneath his legs. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hanzo says, suddenly very nervous. 

“Trust me,” Jesse says, and Hanzo sees a hint of a fang curling out of Jesse’s lips. His eyes flash golden under the bright moon. Oh.

Jesse walks back about ten feet and dashes it. Hanzo feels the wind pushing the hair away from his face, his eyes wide and heart in his throat as Jesse leaps. They fly far, the cold air drying out Hanzo’s eyes. The falling sensation seems to last forever, and the wind is knocked out of Hanzo when they finally land, the impact jarring. His chin smacks Jesse’s shoulder hard. 

“Shit, you okay?” Jesse asks, setting Hanzo down. Hanzo rubs his face. It stings, but he know it will fade soon. 

“I’m fine,” Hanzo says. “That was...exhilarating.” 

“Ha!” Jesse says. “I’m just glad it turned out okay. So guide me to this festival. I am starving.”

The festival was a couple miles from Shimada Compound, and by the time they get there, Jesse was just about ready to eat everything. The amount of food stalls put Jesse in heaven. Hanzo bought him takoyaki, fried little fish impaled on a stick and grilled, ika yaki (fried squid), and adorable fish pastries with red bean filling called taiyaki. 

They shared a bag of candied fruits between them. Jesse expected to stand out more as a foreigner, but it turns out that festival hopping is a thing. Hanamura’s tourism wasn’t huge, but it seems people from all over came for these kind of events. Jesse heard a smattering of English here and there, some Spanish, Russian and other languages he didn’t recognize. 

Although the festival was strung up with a variety of lights, it also didn’t provide a large amount of illumination. Hanzo’s yakuza tattoo remained unnoticed. The only ones who caught a glimpse of it were the wide-eyed waist-high children running around, but they did not know the significance of it nor did they care. 

The only thing that did draw some attention though was a shiba inu that raised its hackles and growled when he and Hanzo were about to pass it by. It gave Jesse the whale eyes, its tail tucked low and back in a defensive posture. Jesse flashed his teeth at it, and it made a high pitched whimper and backed up. The stall owner, to whom the dog belonged to, gave Jesse a strange look as he tried to calm down his pet. A small crowd gathered around them, drawn by the loud noise. 

Hanzo quickly led Jesse away. 

“Animals don’t like me very much,” Jesse explains when they get away from the noise. “I think they sense the wolf in me and aren’t too keen on a predator coming too close.”

A thought strikes Hanzo. “Does that mean you’ve never ridden a horse?”

Jesse grumbles sourly. “Horses get spooked even worse than dogs. Can’t even get close to one without them throwing themselves into a right fit. What kind of cowboy am I if I’ve never even ridden a horse?” Hanzo chuckles at Jesse’s complaints. It seems that he had touched upon a sore subject. 

They stay for another hour. Hanzo had not gone to a _matsuri_ in years. His duties had increased as he got older, especially without Genji assisting him. And even then when he had free time, he was too tired to handle the noise and crowd.

But at this very moment he felt immense joy at being here with Jesse. Jesse’s excitement and unhindered happiness at all the foods, the water games and the mingle of the crowd was infectious. Hanzo wants to commit this to memory. He reaches over to grab Jesse’s hand. Jesse’s grip tightens in his, and they walk through the remainder of the festival, hands held tightly together as open lovers. It made Hanzo’s heart beat fast. 

A small photo booth was set up, and Jesse insisted they line up for that. Hanzo never liked having his picture taken, but he lets Jesse convince him to do it. They take various pictures together, almost all of them silly because of the faces Jesse makes, except for one. Hanzo insisted on one good serious photo, and when the machine prints it out, that is the one that Hanzo keeps. In the photo, Jesse has his arm over Hanzo’s shoulder, and Hanzo has his arm tucked behind Jesse, his fingers resting on his hip. Hanzo’s long dark hair was pushed to the side, a small smile on his lips and a happy wider smile on Jesse’s, his eyes alight. They looked like a real couple. 

Unfortunately they could not stay the entire duration. Hanzo tugs Jesse close so that he could talk into his ear. “We do not have time for the end, but one day we will watch the _hanabi_ together. The fireworks is what everyone always looks forward to, especially the children,” he says. 

“Maybe we’ll be able to see some of it on the walk back,” Jesse says hopefully. “Hey, does that mean you plan on taking me here again someday?”

“Only if you want to,” is Hanzo’s reply. “We’ll go to as many as we can if that is what you desire.”

They cut through a local park when the fireworks do indeed begin. It lights up the sky in an array of colors. Hanzo tugs Jesse close and they kiss with the fireworks thundering behind them. It was incredibly romantic and unreal. They didn’t have to say it aloud to know that both of them wished the same thing: that this would never end. 

\---

Reyes was a punctual man and arrived on the third day, as promised. Jesse got a call from him with orders to regroup with the rest of the team somewhere else in the city. Trust Reyes to be a man who could get things done, because he already knew where to strike. 

Jesse had personally met with Gotoh to inform him of his leave, and Gotoh had wished him well. 

Hanzo helps Jesse pack. Jesse didn’t have much in the way of clothes, especially considering the ruined ones that had to be tossed, so it should have taken him only twenty minutes tops to get everything together.

It takes them two hours instead as they dragged it out as long as possible. They spend too much time touching each other, the underside of the wrist, the tip of the ear, the nape of the neck...

“I haven’t even left yet and I already miss you,” Jesse whispers. His eyes were cast low and the corners of his mouth turned down. 

“We will see each other again,” Hanzo says, his face a reflection of Jesse’s. “That is a promise.”

“Phones aren’t a secure way for us to keep in contact with each other, but I know someone back at headquarters who I might be able to convince to give me a couple of privately linked comms that use the global satellite system,” Jesse says. He didn’t know Winston too well, but he knew that the intelligent gorilla loved peanut butter. Besides, Jesse was a charmer and with time he could get Winston to probably do him a solid. “Think there’s anyway I could send that to you without it being confiscated by your security detail first?” Jesse asks, forcing some humor into this.

“Shimada Castle does not receive mail directly, nor do I receive anything in my name. Everything goes to another site and is handled by our accountants, so if you do send a package addressed to me, it should come to my attention,” Hanzo says. He writes down the address on a piece of paper and hands it to Jesse. “I will give word to them so that they are aware of it.”

“Great,” Jesse says, and commits the address to memory. The last thing he needs is to misplace the scrap of paper and lose his way of contacting Hanzo. He picks up his duffle bag. Peacemaker is tucked safely in there. “I guess this is goodbye for now. Until we meet again?”

Hanzo grabs Jesse’s head with both hands and gives him a hard kiss and a sharp nip, something to remember him by. “Until we meet again,” he says. 

Jesse’s smile trembles as he walks out without looking back. Hanzo does not follow. He could not trust himself to act appropriately outside of their rooms with witnesses all around. Hanzo thinks this is what love feels like, because never before has he wanted to leave his inheritance to follow another’s path. 

As Jesse walks out, Jesse swallows the tumultuous emotions building in his chest and forces his knees to not buckle. On his way, he catches sight of a young man with eye-catching bright green hair. That must be Genji, the younger dragon. Strange that after all the time spent in Hanamura, this is the first glimpse he’s seen of him.

Genji obviously knows who he is though, because he catches Jesse’s eye and bows low to him. Jesse bows back, confused, and continues his exit. The Shimada guards open the gates for him without issue. 

Genji stays to watch Jesse’s retreat until the gates close behind him. He wonders how his brother was taking this. 

Not very well, is Genji’s immediate conclusion. He finds Hanzo in his room, looking out the window as if he might be able to see Jesse from it. Hanzo was not one to shed tears, but Genji knew from personal experience what heartbreak looked like. He understands now how far Hanzo has fallen for that American gunslinger. No words were needed to explain this. 

“ _Aniki_ ,” Genji says, and embraces Hanzo from behind, his heart aching in response to his brother’s sorrow. “He’ll be back before you know it. And when you finally become the head of the Shimada-gumi, then he can even live here.” 

Hanzo huffs. “The clan elders would have a fit,” he says. “A foreigner living in our home as my lover?” 

“The elders are old and short-sighted,” Genji says, still holding onto his brother. “If anyone can change their minds, it’ll be you.” 

“And if I can’t?” 

Genji shrugs. “Then does it matter? The clan elders are not always right, and their decisions shouldn’t determine what your heart has already settled on.” 

“I would be acting selfishly,” Hanzo says. 

“Oh _aniki_ ,” Genji exclaims with exasperation and tightens his hold, “would it kill you to be more selfish? Would you throw away your soul to please the will of the elders? Surely there’s more to life than that!” 

Hanzo looks down and is glad for Genji’s strong arms holding him together. 

“Perhaps you are right, brother,” Hanzo finally concedes. He twists around in Genji’s arms and returns the embrace. 

“I know we haven’t seen eye to eye on many things these past several years, and I am sorry that I have not been a good brother to you,” Hanzo says, his voice unsteady. “But know this. I do love you. No matter what we are brothers and in the end, when father is gone, you will be all I have left.” 

“That’s not true,” Genji says. “McCree-san will be there standing beside you. I know it.” 

Hanzo startles when he feels wetness on his neck. “Genji? Why are you crying?” 

“I’m crying for you,” Genji says, overcomed, “For the tears that you do not allow yourself to shed. This is the first time you’ve opened your heart to me, and it is as if I truly have my older brother once more.” 

“Genji, brother,” Hanzo rasps. “I promise you I will try to do better. For too long I’ve let my duties become me until I lost my sense of self. I see this now and will make amends.” 

Genji nods and knuckles away his tears. A heavy cloud lifts from the shoulders of the two dragons. The cycle of battle ceases its ever turning wheel as the brothers are reunited once more.


	2. Part 2

Rewind the clock eight years into the past, back into that dusty hell of Route 66 on the border of Santa Fe, New Mexico. The diner with their shitty coffee is still in business, but there isn’t really much around it. A tourist shop selling cheap trinkets, a liquor shop that doubled as a general trade store, a dirty grocer market, a shipping warehouse, a smattering of trailer homes hooked up to propane tanks— all in all, an undeveloped gorge. 

But a perfect area for the Deadlock Gang to make their thriving home base. Everyone was rowdy and thrilled about another payload delivered successfully. They made a pretty sum of cash, and by the end of the night, Jesse knew that quite a few would be broke. That’s how it was with most of the gang members. They knew how to celebrate with a bang, but couldn’t manage their own finances for jack shit.

Quite a few of them have a running tab with Jesse already, because Jesse was the known saver. After all, his customized revolver wasn’t cheap, and he got into the habit of not spending all his funds. They always paid him back though without fail. Gang or not, Jesse wanted his money back—with interest. Those that owed him already gave him their portion of the loot. Everyone knew better than to test him about that. “Loan-shark McCree” was a name they tossed around playfully sometimes, and hell, he even caught them throwing darts at his picture one time. 

Jesse relaxed on a stool in the diner, his back edged up against the counter. The diner’s exclusive customers over the last few years have all been Deadlock Gang members, and so the owners were used to the riotous, bad smelling, foul mouthed company. Even though a lot of the gang members had more attitude than brains, they knew better than to mess too hard with their only source of grub in this godforsaken patch of dirt. 

Jesse leaned back against the stool and blew a huge cloud of smoke into the air. He picked up a pack of cigarillos from a little trade store down the street. It was new inventory. Jesse came to the conclusion that it wasn’t bad, but then again, probably everything else was much better than the cheap cigarettes he was accustomed to smoking. 

He tilted his cowboy hat over his eyes. And then he heard it. The sound of a heavy clattering of feet. A lot of them. 

“Get down!” Jesse yelled, and launched himself over the fake marble countertops. Bullets shattered the windows and people in black tactical gear rappelled themselves into the diner, guns blazing. The gang members who weren’t instantly gunned down rolled underneath upturned tables and returned fire. 

Their bullets were useless. Whoever these men were, they were armed with the latest tech, because Jesse had never seen the blue shield before. Their attackers had a metallic object wrapped around their wrist and held it in front of them, and the shield extended from it, completely covering their front-side. 

Jesse fired Peacekeeper anyway and could see it crack. He fanned the hammer. “Keep shooting!” he yelled over the loud scatter of gunfire and reloaded his gun. “The shields can break!” 

The boys concentrated their fire and the fissures in the shields broadened. And then the flashbangs were thrown. Jesse howled as his vision abruptly whited out. He could still hear though, and although blinded, Jesse raised his arm over the countertop and kept shooting. He felt a dark thrill of satisfaction when he heard a body drop. 

And then Peacemaker was shot out of his hand. It flew and clattered hard against the floor. Jesse could barely see through his watery eyes, but he knew where it went. As he reached for it, a heavy boot came down and smashed his hand. 

“Fuck!” Jesse screamed. Rough hands grabbed him from behind, and it took three people to hold him down as he struggled, his sharp elbows jabbing someone behind him in the ribs. 

“What do they feed this one!” One of the men said, as they finally managed to subdue him through sheer numbers. “This kid is crazy strong!”

He was pushed to his knees. His vision was starting to come back, the white spots that danced in his vision slowly fading. There were two heavy black boots in front of him. A large hand grabbed him by the hair and pulled it back, and forced him to look up. A dark skinned Hispanic looking man in a black beanie glared at him. He carried the biggest shotgun Jesse had ever seen. 

“Impressive shooting, kid,” the man growled at him. “You actually managed to get one of my men.”

Jesse didn’t bother with a snarky reply. He looked around and saw that of all the people who were in the diner, he was the only one still alive. The ones who weren’t dead yet were dying. Jesse could hear their hearts slowing. 

“So how fucked am I?” Jesse asked. The man punched him in the face. Jesse’s head snapped to the side, and shit the man had a really mean hook, but it ain’t nothing he’d never felt before. Jesse bared his bloodied teeth at him, eyes flashing. The punch had split his lip against his teeth. 

“You got _cajones_ , you piece of shit,” the man said. “But lucky for you, I like people with spirit. How about this,” the man says, kneeling so that he was on eye level with Jesse. “You just took out one of my men, so now there’s a position open. Now, if you’re stupid, you’ll say no. But if you have any ounce of intelligence in you, you’ll say yes.” 

He grips Jesse hard by the chin when he tries to look away and forces Jesse to look him in the eyes. “Ey, focus _cabron_ , because I’m only going to offer this once. I want you to understand the position you’re in because the charges you’re facing right now is a lifetime of imprisonment at a maximum lock-up facility. You want to go to prison, boy?”

Jesse forces his chin out of the man’s hands and turns to the side to spit out blood. “No, sir,” he said. 

“Good. Then listen closely. You join me, become a part of Overwatch—” 

Jesse’s eyes widened. Holy fuck, they got taken out by _Overwatch_? He didn’t think their gang merited that kind of attention. No wonder they got fucked so quickly.

“—and I’ll make sure you’re ass won’t be hauled to prison. You help us clean-up the mess you and your boys made, do the world some good, and that will be the tradeoff for not putting you in a cage.”

Jesse tried not to panic. This was the ultimatum right here, his entire life on the line in this one moment in a shitty diner. 

“Do we have a deal?” The man said, voice low and dangerous. 

The decision really was a no-brainer. “Deal,” Jesse said. 

“But Commander Reyes, this kid just killed Sokowsky—” one of the men holding him protested.

Commander Reyes shut the man up with a look. “I’m not stupid, I know what he did. This is a sting operation. Casualties happen. Now let him up.”

The men were reluctant, but they loosen up their hold. Jesse shook them off, and got up slowly with his hands in the air. He ain’t going to give anyone a reason to shoot him. Commander Reyes sees Peacemaker and picks it up. He empties the chamber, spins it closed, and examined the barrel. “Nice weapon, kid. This here is the gun that won the west, so they say.” 

Commander Reyes threw the revolver over his shoulder and one of his men caught it in mid-air. “It’s mine now. Just like your life.” Jesse gave Commander Reyes a vicious blood filled smile, a wolf masquerading as a man. Commander Reyes seemed to approve. “Welcome to the team, ingrate,” he said.

And, as the saying goes, it was history from there.

Jesse was put through a brutal regimen of training and drills to test his endurance, reflexes and coordination. He consistently topped the score charts of every single test. Commander Reyes was happy with the find. It was rare to pick up someone of such raw talent and potential. All the kid’s belongings and even the clothes off his back were confiscated and tagged up. He was issued standard scrubs, and Reyes noticed how it hung loosely off him. They would need to fatten the kid up a bit. 

Despite Jesse’s young scrawniness however, he had the strength of at least two men. Reyes saw how Jesse tried to hide that, but it was apparent the first time they caught him. It was also apparent when he sent three people to the medical wing with contusions and internal bleeding. One of them was probably going to need his face reconstructed. 

Morrison was very unhappy with that incident. “Gabe,” Morrison said, as they both looked at Jesse. Jesse was put into solitary confinement. His nose and knuckles were bloodied, the skin scraped off, and it looked like he was going to have a nasty black eye, but all in all, relatively uninjured—especially when compared to the guys he put into surgery. They watched as Jesse wiped his nose with his sleeve, and turned to look at them defiantly, as if he could see them through the one-way mirror. 

“That is kind of creepy,” Morrison said.

“What do you want, Jack?” Reyes asked tiredly, already anticipating what this was about. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Morrison said. “The kid is wild. How can we trust him, especially since he already injured so many people? He killed one of our men, and now he’s sent three to surgery.”

“Those idiots got what they asked for,” Reyes said. “Don’t you remember what happened to the people who tried to haze us when we were in the army?” 

“Well yeah, we gave them a good licking, but we didn’t nearly kill them,” Morrison protested. “It was a lot different.”

“Is it?” Reyes said. “You and I were together and took them on our own terms. I saw the footage of this. Those three ganged up on him when no one was looking, and they weren’t looking to just scare him. The leader of that attack was Sokowsky’s cousin.” Reyes crossed his arms tightly. “The kid was fighting for his _life_ and he won against the odds.”

“That doesn’t mean his behavior should be rewarded though,” Morrison said.

Reyes gave Morrison a pointed look. “Does it look like I’m rewarding him?” He asked rhetorically, referring to the solitary confinement Jesse was currently in. They didn’t even disinfect his injuries before tossing him in there. 

“Either way, this isn’t any of your business. That kid is mine to take care of. You got your own agents to deal with. Do you see me interfering with them?” Reyes said pointedly. 

“No, Gabe,” Morrison sighed heavily. “Just keep him in line. We don’t need a loose cannon around here.”

Morrison, no, Jack, reached out and gripped Gabriel by the forearm. “Are we going to be okay? I feel like I haven’t seen you around in weeks.”

Gabriel looked at the hand touching him, and the pretty man it was attached to with his golden blonde hair and angel blue eyes. A real corn-fed American. “We’ll be okay once you start butting out of my business. I’ll see you later tonight,” Gabriel said roughly. Jack released his hold. 

On his way out, Jack ran into Ana. “Heard Gabe’s new kid caused quite a stir today,” Ana said, the horus mark underneath her eye scrunched with amusement. “Gabe must really like the kid if he hasn’t beat his ass yet.”

“I’ve never seen Gabe take a shine to someone so quickly before,” Jack remarked. He pushed down a flash of jealousy. 

Ana was not just sharp behind a sniper rifle, and caught the implied undertone in Jack’s voice. “You know Gabe had a hard life growing up, and he probably sees a lot of himself in that kid. Don’t take it personally, Jack.” She tapped his shoulder and moved on. Her daughter Fareeha had a school recital today, and for once she would actually be here to see it. She looked back and sees Jack still standing there, his head in the clouds. She shook her head. “Commanded by two emotionally repressed idiots,” she muttered. 

Years later, after Jesse had established himself in Blackwatch enough that Reyes gave him his hat and Peacemaker back as a reward, Jesse wasn’t quite sure why Commander Morrison still seemed to have a distaste for him. Morrison never treated him badly the few times they encountered each other, but Jesse had good senses, and he knew Morrison did not like him for some inexplicable reason. 

Jesse didn’t notice it at first, but whenever Morrison rounded the corner, and if Reyes was talking to Jesse, Reyes would switch to Spanish mid-way. Reyes was a real Angeleno, and his Spanish was as crisp and clean as his English. Jesse’s mother gave him his Spanish tongue, and although it was more rounded by the taste of home, it was still good. Their Spanish-only conversations always put a stormcloud over Morrison’s face. 

“Did I do something to make Commander Morrison hate me?” Jesse had asked Reyes one day, and had flopped himself on the beat up sofa in Reyes’ office. Jesse was the only Blackwatch agent who could come and go into Reyes’ office freely without getting tossed out on his ass.

“Why, did he say something to you?” Reyes said, already irate. He glared down at the stack of paperwork in front of him. An hour had already passed and he had yet to put a dent in it.

“No,” Jesse answered quickly, “not in words. It’s just, y’know…” Jesse pushed his new red scarf up so that it covered his nose. Ana had recently returned from her trip to Cairo and brought him a souvenir. Jesse thinks he can still smell the hot sand from where it came from and was comforted by it. “I got a feel for these things, and I always get the notion like he’s going to just go ahead and toss me in the gulag.”

“I’m not going to let anyone throw you in prison,” Reyes said. “Also, you aren’t helping with this bureaucratic nonsense. Unless you’re going to take this off my hands, go away and let me finish it in peace.”

Later that night, Reyes and Morrison argued over it. “Leave my agent be, Jack. I don’t know why you have the stink eye for him in particular,” Gabriel said heatedly. They were turning down for bed and Gabriel had already stripped down to his boxers. 

“You’re always with him,” Jack said, also stripping down. “Every time I turn the corner, it’s like he’s always there following you around. And you also take him on every single mission.”

“The kid’s got a lot of talent, but still has some things that need to be worked on. He’s been developing a technique he calls _dead-eye_ ,” Gabriel explained with some amusement over the name and unrolled the sheets with force. “Ana’s been doing a good job helping him with that. I’m just taking him out for practice runs.”

“He’s twenty years old. He isn’t really a _kid_ anymore,” Jack said, sliding beneath the sheets. Jesse McCree was no longer the scrappy seventeen year old kid he was when he was first brought in. Steady diet and exercise had filled him out more, and Jack recognized from an objective standpoint that McCree was very attractive. His confident swagger turned heads. Gabriel slowly turned around and looked at him. 

“You don’t seriously think I’m into him like that,” Gabriel said, his voice flat and toneless. The realization of what all of this was about dawned on him. “Are you actually jealous of a _kid_?”

Jack made a frustrated noise. “It’s just that you’re never around anymore. Even when we’re together, it’s like you aren’t really here. When was the last time we talked?”

“We’re talking now.”

“This isn’t talking. This is arguing,” Jack said. He folds his arm and turns around so that his back was facing Gabriel. 

Gabriel punched the pillow. “Goddamnit, Jack. I can’t believe we’re fighting over the ingrate. I like him, okay? But not in the way you think.” Jack turned his head around to look at him.

Gabriel continued. “The kid has a lot of heart, and every time I look at him I see glimpses of myself. When I was growing up, I always wished there was someone there to guide me, to be tough on me when I needed it, but to also encourage me to be more. The kid just brings that out in me,” he says. “And that’s the honest truth. You can either take it or leave it.” Gabriel growled and let himself fall roughly into bed.

As usual, Ana was spot on in her assessment. But Jack wanted to hear it from Gabe’s own mouth. Despite what it took to get that confession out of Gabriel, Jack feels his heart lighten with relief. 

He rolled over and gave Gabriel a chaste kiss. Gabriel returned it, though his mouth was stiff and turned down low. Even though neither of them were in a particularly good mood, that didn’t stop them from having rough sex with Gabriel turned beneath him, all hard muscle and smooth skin. Jack fucked him without mercy, the way Gabriel prefered it, barely any lube to ease his forceful entry.

When they’re done, there was no post-coital tender moments. They turned away from each other, and went to sleep back to back. That was the summation of their relationship. It was always volatile, the endless cycle of coming together and breaking apart like waves crashing upon crumbling cliffs. 

—-

The years were not kind to either of them, now breaking apart more often and rarely coming back together. 

Reyes didn’t bother telling Morrison about the mission in Japan personally. If he wanted to know where Reyes had gone, it’s all recorded in the official dockets. More bloody and dirty work to be done, as well as retrieving his best agent. 

It was nothing that concerned the heroic Overwatch division under the gaze of the official strike commander. 

With the information Jesse had provided, they were able to test out the new AI the gorilla from the moon had created. The AI, Athena 1.0, gathered all the satellite information over Japan and all the news over the course of the last 6 months and compiled enough information to triangulate suspicious, and more than likely, Talon activity in the Ibaraki Prefecture northeast of Tokyo. There were a couple of other places on the list, but they will be hitting the biggest target first. 

Reyes was honestly impressed with the AI. If it was accurate, then this could be a real game changer for any future reconnaissance missions. It would have been impossible for a group of people to not only parse through the sheer quantity of information, but even if they could, it would’ve taken months if not years. The AI accomplished it in three days, as Winston had promised. 

The team Reyes assembled consisted of a group of ten Blackwatch agents, each of whom he could trust to handle themselves. Like Jesse, they were all collected from various, sometimes illicit, backgrounds. 

“Listen up,” Reyes tells them on their flight to Japan. He got Overwatch to sign them over a small carrier jet for the quick mission, and the international airspace clearance was approved without a hitch. Reyes always liked Japanese governmental efficiency. “This will be an assault, breach and clear, just like the one in Serbia. According to our source, they’ve barely set up, so there shouldn’t be too much trouble. Regardless, don’t let your guard down. I will be angry if any single one of you dies on the job.” That brings out some low chuckles. They knew Reyes’ death spiel by heart now. 

“We will be meeting Agent McCree at a designated location, and from there we will proceed. Understood?” 

“Understood, Commander,” they all say in unison. 

Jesse was already waiting for them at a cheap hotel in Itako. He’s worked with everyone on the strike team at least once in his Blackwatch career, and everyone recognized Commander Reyes’ unspoken favorite.

Of the ten assembled, Jesse works well with several of them: Sasha, Aria, Shen and Emilio. The rest were neutral. The only one that raises his brow at is Murdock, one of Sokowsky’s goons all those years ago. Murdock’s nose never quite the same. 

Murdock avoids Jesse’s eyes. No matter what, that still amuses Jesse. The incident was eight years ago, more than enough time to let bygones be bygones. 

They wait for the cover of darkness before suiting up. Reyes was nice enough to bring flashbangs for Jesse. He had to leave that behind on his mission in Japan. It was difficult enough to get Peacemaker through customs all dismantled. Flashbangs would’ve been a whole other story. 

Jesse sighs happily as he clips them onto his belt, on the opposite side of his holster that held Peacekeeper. It was nice to have all of his familiar gear back. 

It feels like it’s been forever since Jesse had been on an efficient strike mission, and the energy and excitement of finally getting some real action makes his heart beat a bit faster. He can’t wait. 

—-

News reports of a fire and subsequent explosion of an industrial factory during the night in Itako headlines all the major Japanese newspapers the next day. The cause was attributed to a faulty gas line. As far as the newspaper saw it, there were no human casualties, though Hanzo knew otherwise. He immediately realized it to be Overwatch’s handiwork. He hopes Jesse is safe. 

Hanzo goes about his day as usual, except small things have changed. Hanzo expected Genji to dash out of the family compound as soon as the lockdown was relaxed, but Genji continued to surprise him. His little brother sticks close to him, and even deigns to help him with a bit of paperwork. 

It was not unpleasant company and Hanzo suspects it was purposeful on Genji’s part. Despite this, Hanzo’s mind continually wanders to thoughts of Jesse. The small photo they took together at the festival was carefully placed between the pages of one of Hanzo’s favorite books, and he had already taken it out twice today to gaze upon it. 

“How about we go out tonight?” Genji says, noticing Hanzo’s sudden downward shift in mood. 

“What did you have in mind?” Hanzo asks. No matter where Hanzo looked, there seemed to be something missing in his room. A hat that wasn’t there. A pair of boots not in their corner. A red scarf nowhere to be seen. Everything reminded Hanzo of Jesse’s absence. 

“How about I show you the arcade?” Genji says excitedly. 

Hanzo makes a face. “I don’t feel in the mood for games,” he says gently. He never understood the appeal of video games. He took more satisfaction practicing his archery and swordsmanship in the dojo. 

“Aww, don’t be so boring,” Genji says, rocking back and forth on the tatami mat. “Break out of your comfort zone a bit.” 

It sounded like something Jesse would say. 

“Okay,” he concedes. 

Genji stops rocking. “Wait, seriously?” 

“Yes,” Hanzo says. “Unless you would like me to change my mind?” 

“No!” Genji leaps up giddily. “Let’s go now!” 

Hanzo looks at the stack of papers in front of him and looks back up at Genji with a raised brow. 

“ _Anikiiiiiii_ ,” Genji whines. “You can finish it off later. How else did you manage with McCree-san around all the time?” Genji shoves open Hanzo’s closet and peers inside. “Don’t you have any other clothes that aren’t yukatas, kyudo-gis, or suits?” 

Hanzo did have one sweater, but that got shredded in the building explosion. Genji digs through Hanzo’s closet and Hanzo sighs, knowing that he would have to rehang and refold them again later lest they be wrinkled. 

“Deplorable,” Genji shakes his head. “Stay here. I’m going to go grab some stuff from my room,” he says and dashes out as if the longer he was away, the more likely it’d be that Hanzo would retract his decision. 

It’s not long before he hears Genji running back. He has a frightening pile of clothes in his arms. “You’re like only an inch taller than me, so some of these should fit,” he says, tossing them on the floor. Hanzo never realized before how much Genji and Jesse had in common with their tendency towards mess. They would’ve been excellent roommates, like two pigs in a sty. 

Hanzo gingerly picks through Genji’s clothes, slightly afraid of what he might be forced to wear. A lot of Genji’s clothes were distinctly colorful. 

In the end, they settle for a plain maroon long sleeved v-necked shirt to cover his tattoo and black jeans. Hanzo resists Genji’s attempts to put accessories on him. 

Genji pulls off a band from his wrist and helps his brother tie his hair back. “There!” Genji says happily. “Now you look like a normal person. Well, as normal as someone like you can be,” he laughs. Hanzo shoves him and Genji lets himself fall, faking pain. “Ohhh, you have slain me brother!” He squirms on the floor like a worm, groaning the entire time, his face scrunched in exaggerated agony. 

Unexpected laughter bursts forth from Hanzo. “That is too dramatic,” Hanzo says, clutching his sides. “Get up! You are absolutely ridiculous.” 

Genji grins up at him from the floor. 

Genji talks animatedly the entire walk to the arcade, and when they finally arrive, Hanzo is already unimpressed. The arcade occupied a large building with two floors. Rows of machines and different gaming contraptions were neatly lined up in rows. It was absolutely crowded.

Genji drew stares right away because of his brightly colored hair, though Hanzo felt many eyes glance over him as well. It was distinctly uncomfortable to be in a room full of so many strangers, some who probably recognized who he was. In a twisted way, the knowledge that Hanzo could easily kill every single one of them made him relax a bit. There was no danger here.

Genji broke some paper bills into coins, and energetically showed Hanzo all of his favorite games. Hanzo wasn’t fond of the racing games, but he admitted that the games in which he and Genji would battle each other with cartoon characters was fun. 

“Hah! I win again,” Genji crows, pumping his fist. The screen flashes a large K.O. His character, some kind of odd-looking man with biceps larger than his head and gravity defying yellow hair, lies flat on the floor with birds flying circles around his head. Hanzo feels a smile tug at his face. “Only in video games, little brother. You have yet to best me in live combat,” Hanzo corrects. 

Genji blows a raspberry at him, but doesn’t bother denying it. Hanzo takes in Genji’s bright eyes and smile, and the moment of content in his heart, the din and flashing lights of all the machines. “Let’s grab a drink from the vending machine. I’m pretty thirsty after kicking your ass so hard,” Genji grins. 

“You’re buying then,” Hanzo says. He feels Genji’s cheeriness seep into him in a way that reminded him sharply of someone else’s absence. “You and Jesse would get along well,” Hanzo remarks as Genji leads the both of them to some sitting booths on the upper floor. Genji had gotten himself some kind of bright orange soda, and a can of tea for Hanzo. 

“Well, let’s hope he comes by again soon so I can get to know my future brother-in-law,” Genji teases. Hanzo tactfully ignores that statement and sips his tea. He couldn’t push down his grimace at the artificial sweetness of it. It really was more syrup than “tea.” Revolting. 

“Oh hey, I know that guy,” Genji says, eyeing someone over to their left. The second floor of the arcade was split between a sitting area for people to relax with snacks and drinks, and the other half had more games. Hanzo saw a man, older than them and somewhat out of place in the arcade, with slicked back black hair and in plain nondescript dark clothes. He sat in front of some kind of game Hanzo did not know, idly pushing the brightly colored buttons. He did not seem to be really playing at all.

“It’s kind of weird for him to be here. The arcade was never his scene,” Genji remarks, still eyeing the man. 

“And how do you know this? Or rather how do you know him?” Hanzo says, and hopes that he will not regret asking. 

Genji flaps his hand airily, still sipping his soda from a straw. “We fucked once.” 

Hanzo nearly knocks over his disgusting tea. “He looks to be a _decade older than you_ ,” he hisses, glancing between the man and Genji and back to the man again. 

“Actually he’s twelve years older. Could’ve been worse,” Genji says, more than bemused by his older brother’s volatile reaction. 

Hanzo makes a huffing noise, like an angry dragon blowing steam from its nose. “And how could it be worse?” 

“Welllll,” Genji drawls out, “possibly, hypothetically, maybe he might actually be the third son of the master of the Inugami-gumi, y’know that upstart gang all those years back that father was considering to crush?”

The loud air raid sirens go off in Hanzo’s head. “ _What_?” 

“Oh my god, please don’t lecture me _aniki_. It was a one time fling. It was obvious the guy was more interested in me because of my last name rather than me as a person, but he won the national judo competition two years ago and let me tell you he has some _serious_ moves in b—”

Hanzo holds up his palm to silence Genji. “Please, enough. It is alarming in itself that you would _ingratiate_ yourself—- (“Oh, you’re the one to talk,” Genji mutters) —-to such a person, but that is not my main concern.” 

Genji’s brow furrows. “Oh?” 

“Tell me, when was the last time you saw that man?” 

“Uh...a year ago? Probably more?” 

“You mentioned that his presence here is unusual. Does he have a stalker tendency?” 

“No! God, no. I would’ve beat his ass for trying, judo champion or not,” Genji says. 

Hanzo places his arms flat on the table and leans forward. “Genji. Listen to me very carefully. Remember I told you about the gangs that mysteriously disappeared?” 

“Yeah…? Vaguely,” Genji says. 

“I don’t remember the whole list, as there were a lot of small gangs and plenty of upstarts, but if I recall correctly the Inugami-gumi was on that list,” Hanzo says fervently. 

“And when you say missing…?”

“As in every single member. Including all immediate relatives. Not one accounted for.”

Realization dawns behind Genji’s eyes. “Shit. Do you think that…?” 

Hanzo takes a subtle glance around and Genji does the same. “It seems to implausible for this to be a coincidence. Last night there was a successful base raid in Itako—” Genji’s eyes widen at this tidbit because this was the first he’s heard about it— “and now this all of a sudden. It’s too suspicious.” 

“We need to leave as quietly as possible,” Genji says, already schooling his face back into a relaxed state. The smile plastered on his face could’ve fooled a casual onlooker, but not Hanzo. Hanzo approved of Genji’s quick thinking.

“C’mon, I want to show you a different game! It’s downstairs,” he says and slides out of the booth. “I promise you’ll find it more interesting than the last one.”

Hanzo makes a show of disappointment. “You shouldn’t make promises you won’t be able to keep,” he says and follows Genji. From the reflection of a combination of the glass windows and from some of the metallic machines, he can see the man get up and follow them. 

Him and a younger man and a woman. Hanzo feels a flash of irritation at being caught so off guard. He was actually having a good time with Genji and allowed himself to get distracted. 

Genji and Hanzo utilize the evening crowd to their advantage and slip between the people like fish through water, a light tap here and a soft shoulder brush there—swift as the wind. 

They could hear angry mutters and cries of “watch it!” As their pursuers run through the crowd, pushing people out of their way as they continued to lose sight of their targets. At the moment neither brother knew if those three were their only enemies or if there were more lying in wait. The arcade was not an ideal place for such a confrontation. 

The exit was within sights. More people were filtering in, but the doorway was relatively unblocked. 

They were within fifteen feet of the door when the wall on both sides explodes. And the screams begin in earnest. The force of the blast instantly disintegrates the plaster, and a massive cloud of dust hung in the air. In the confusion of the thick dust and the sudden stampede of the crowd, Hanzo is nearly knocked off his feet. He has lost sight of Genji. 

A heavy body rams into him and knocks him down. Hanzo bares his teeth and struggles, managing to free an arm and elbow his attacker in the face. He feels bone crunch beneath his elbow. The flash of pain causes the grip on him to release, and Hanzo smoothly rolls to his feet and gives the man a vicious kick to the side of the head, knocking him out stone cold. 

In the ensuing struggle a majority of the crowd had already funneled themselves out. Hanzo struggles to find Genji in the smoke. 

When he finally does spot him, Hanzo was relieved to see that laziness had not weakened Genji’s natural abilities. He fought both the young man and woman at the same time, his form still good, landing swift kicks and punches. The fight was over before Hanzo needed to step in. 

He runs up and grabs Genji by the elbow. “We must go!” He shouts. They and the other stragglers run out. Police squad cars and a large black van nearly run them over as they are intercepted. Uniformed officers with tasers and guns leap out and point their weapons at Hanzo and Genji. 

“Get down and hands behind your head!” They scream. 

Both brothers are bewildered. “Why the fuck are you targeting us?” Genji yells at them, eyes ablaze. “We’re the victims here! We just want to go home!” 

More squad cars surround them. Their flashing lights were blinding. The Shimada brothers were up against each other back to back. 

“Genji,” Hanzo rasps. “There’s something not right about this. Since when do Japanese police officers carry submachine guns?”

It was difficult to see past the bright lights shined on them, but the shape of the weapons were recognizable through the shadows it cast. Definitely not the standard issue pistol. 

“We might not have a choice but to cooperate,” Hanzo grits out. Whoever these people were truly had them surrounded. Without their gear or knowing tactically what they were dealing with, Hanzo recognized that there was little chance of them escaping this without dying. He would not see his brother suffer. 

The firm pressure of Genji’s back against his is gone.

“Genji, no!” He hears the sound of an electric rattle, and the shape of Genji falls to the floor. Hanzo moves forward and feels two sharp prongs bite into his flesh and the searing pain of high voltage currents running through him.  
—

The Blackwatch strike team had just finished cleaning up the second out of the three identified Talon bases when Commander Reyes receives an emergency call. Reyes frowns and walks away from his strike team to receive the transmission.

“Good shot, McCree,” Sasha says, wiping the blood off her knife. “All this time vacationing in Japan hasn’t dulled your aim at all.”

“Who says I was on vacation?” Jesse says brightly. Today’s base was even more disorganized than the one they destroyed last night. It was easy pickings, like shooting fish in a barrel. “I was working!”

“Uh huh,” Shen says. “Probably flirting around like usual and then _maybe_ working a bit.”

“You guys are real assholes, you know that?” Jesse says. They all laugh. They weren’t good friends by any means, but most saw Jesse as pretty lax, though sometimes too cocky for his own good. Everyone in Blackwatch realized sooner or later, however, that it was easier to find humor in the dark shit they do and in each other as much as they could, or the work they had to do would just send them spiralling down into depression. Even if they all were sanctioned, murder was still murder no matter what uniform they wore. 

Sasha turns to Aria to say something, but Jesse had stopped listening. He caught Hanzo’s name in the air. He turns his head towards Reyes and focuses. It was difficult to hear much due to the conversation around him, but he caught Genji’s name and something about an arcade and a truck. 

Reyes finishes up his call. Shen turns to ask Jesse something when he realizes that Jesse is no longer there. He had stood up and strode over to their commander. 

“Hey boss, did something happen? I overheard the Shimada name,” Jesse says, playing it off as coolly as he could. Hanzo’s name sent a rush of panic in him, though, and he doesn’t think he’s pulling it off very well by the stern look Reyes is giving him. 

“Can’t you learn to mind your own business, ingrate?” Reyes says. 

Jesse flicks his own ear. “Can’t turn my hearing on and off,” he says. “So what do we got?”

“It was a call from the master of the Shimada Clan. Apparently his sons have been captured,” Reyes says.

It was like someone poured a bucket of water over his head, because the world around him seemed a lot colder. 

“Woah,” Reyes says, glancing over Jesse’s shoulder and back at him. “Calm the fuck down. You’re starting to shift. What’s gotten into you?” Thankfully Jesse’s back was facing the group, and so they did not see his face get distinctly more wolfish. 

Jesse rubs his gloved hand down his face and breaths. He can feel the muscle and skin retract back into its usual place. 

“Do we know who got them?” Jesse asks. 

“That’s the thing. From eyewitness accounts, people says it was the police. But the Shimada Clan have the police entirely in their pocket and they would not dare to arrest the sons for any reason.” Reyes pockets the comm. “That and the police department have already been interrogated and they claim no involvement in this. In fact, all of their squad cars were accounted for at the time of the incident.” 

“And how do we know they’re not lying?” 

Reyes eyes him. “Did you forget that you were dealing with the yakuza? They chopped off fingers for their information.” 

Jesse wrinkles his nose at that tidbit. Gross and very unnecessary. “We going to go rescue them, boss?” 

“Why should we?” Reyes says. “They aren’t innocent civilians. We still have one more base to disrupt on our to do list.”

A wave of panic bubbles in Jesse's chest. “Innocent or not, we can’t just let Talon take them!” he says, trying his best not to shout. A thought crosses his mind. “Remember what they did to Amélie?” Jesse says. A thunderstorm passes over Reyes face. “Of course I do. Get to the point.”

“She’s one of Talon’s top agents, but prior to her reconditioning, she wasn’t even an active combatant. Now imagine what they can do with not just one, but two of the Shimada brothers. I lived with them and I know from experience that all those rumors about them being trained assassins are true,” Jesse says. “They’re real dangerous folk. If Talon reconditions them to be their puppets, imagine how much grief they’ll give us in the future.”

That gives Reyes a pause. He rolls over Jesse’s words in his mind. “Alright, that’s a fair point. Perhaps it would be in our best interest to retrieve them. Or if reclamation turns out to be impossible, then a swift execution.”

“Let’s not hope for the execution part,” Jesse says desperately. He doesn’t even want to imagine Hanzo’s body crumpled on the floor, a clean bullet through the skull. “Do we know where they went?”

“I’m about to find out,” Reyes says, calling another line. 

It was short notice, but after Reyes’ urging, Winston boots up his prototype AI. It was a tense wait for Jesse, a hundred worst case scenarios rewinding over and over again in his mind, but the rest of the team were rather ambivalent about a possible rescue mission. 

“As long as I get to shoot more things, don’t really care,” Sasha says, picking grit out from beneath her nails with her combat knife. Blackwatch was known to pick up those with…questionable backgrounds. Sasha herself had a particular talent for breaking and entering, and got caught robbing the wrong organization one day. Fortunately for her, she was not executed on the spot. The unstated motto of Blackwatch was “a second chance to live,” or as some people interpreted it, “a second chance to kill,” and most went with it voluntarily. 

“Hope the next place we go will put up more of a fight. Doesn’t feel like we’re fighting Talon at all,” Shen muttered sourly. 

Aria nodded in agreement. “Yes, too easy. But you also shouldn’t jinx it. I want to make it back to base with all my parts still attached,” she says. 

“I’m sure your date will manage just fine even if you did come back with some important bits gone,” Emilio pipes in. 

“How ‘bout I shave off some extra bits from you and see how it goes,” Aria says dangerously. Emilio’s eyes darken and he gives her a fierce grin. 

“Cut it out, idiots,” Reyes finally chimes in. “Save the bloodlust for the next raid.” 

The tension immediately broke as Aria and Emilio turn away from each other. Both knew better than to test their commander’s patience too hard—the only one who didn’t seem to respect that boundary, however, and was allowed to get away with it all the time was the one who spoke up next.

“Raid? I thought we were doing a hostage rescue,” Jesse says.

“Turns out we’re in luck today,” Reyes responds. “According to the Winston’s pet project, the vehicle holding the hostages were tracked down to the next base that we were going to raid anyway. The kidnapping wasn’t handled bad at all. Turns out they swapped cars several times in different buildings and underneath bridges, places hidden from any kind of surveillance. Most people would have lost track of them, but I got to give credit to that AI for noticing the ruse. Very clever.”

When all of this was over, Jesse thinks to himself, I am going to buy ten pounds of peanut butter for Winston. He sincerely hopes that they make it there in time before...Jesse didn’t even want to think about it. There would be a lot of throats ripped out if anything were to happen to Hanzo. 

 

—-

The taser was not enough to knock either Genji nor Hanzo out, but it caused enough pain for the “police” to cuff them without too much of a struggle and drag them into the unmarked black vehicle. Even though there were no windows in the back of the van, burlap sacks were still placed over their heads. The material was rough and itched his skin severely. 

“Why does it smell like bananas?” He heard Genji ask. “You guys went through all the trouble to nab us, yet you had to recycle your grocery bags for this?” He hears Genji grunt in pain as, from what it sounds like, he is punched in the stomach. “Ow.”

“Be silent or be punished,” one of their captors says, his voice inflectionless, like a machine reading lines from a teleprompter. 

Hanzo keeps his breathing even and unlabored, which calms his racing mind. Panic and anxiety makes one vulnerable to mistakes and mistakes can mean death. It was a basic tenet to both of their training as boys, and their teacher made sure that it would forever be ingrained. Time and again it had proven its usefulness in saving them, and it would do so once more. 

The shackles on Hanzo’s wrists were too tight for him to slip loose, even if he were to dislocate his hand. His feet were similarly bound but with a tight chain between the two cuffs as to allow him to walk, though barely. An opportunity would present itself eventually though. It was up to a patient dragon to see it and exploit it. 

Even though he forced himself into a state of calmness, the dragons roiled beneath his skin, desiring the blood of their enemies as punishment for their audacity. Unleashing them now, however, would do nobody any good. Without a weapon to guide their fangs, and without a sacrificial death to unfurl their true size and majesty, they would be nothing more than small dragons that might cause an uncomfortable amount of pain, but unable to make the kill. Death was needed for more death. 

Genji’s dragon was restricted in a different manner. His smaller green dragon required a blade to infuse itself with. It could be just as deadly as Hanzo’s, if not more so, but like all founts of power, there were always limitations and conditions—the balance of the world always present and re-inserting itself into reality. 

The drive was silent the rest of the way. Several times they were forced out of the vehicle, and each time Hanzo thought this might be it, their final stop, when again they were herded into a different vehicle and the process repeated itself. 

By the third stop, Hanzo was weary of all this shuffling about. It was difficult to accurately judge how much time had passed since they were first captured, but Hanzo estimated it to be about three hours, give or take. Father must be worried sick, Hanzo thinks to himself. Not just one, but both heirs gone. It was a disaster for the entire clan. And for Jesse.

Their moments together felt like a feverish dream, so vivid and visceral, but also too fleeting. Jesse’s presence, his sense of self, was freeing and so unlike his stifled carefully maintained life. He wanted to breathe Jesse in like air, and the sense that there would be a continued future together was what kept Hanzo in his place, this belief that he could have both of what he desired—his empire and his wolf. 

Now it was all up in the air. Perhaps fate really was cruel and this would be the end for both him and his brother, and Jesse will never know what became of them. Would Jesse go through the rest of his life wondering what could have and might have been, or would he eventually forget Hanzo with the turning of the season?

Hanzo’s frown is hidden by the bag over his face. Jesse had chided him for this once, this natural tendency towards cynicism. “Don’t doubt me,” Jesse had told him as they traded sweet lingering kisses the night before he departed. “As long as you want me, I won’t ever give up on you.” And Hanzo believed him, those honeyed words with that southern tang and the almost unbearable heat that accompanied it with all of his heart. 

All his life, he had always been suspicious of those who doled out praises. Usually they were insincere, or with some kind of underhanded purpose, as to curry favor from the future heir of the Shimada-gumi. He knew this even as a young child when his head had barely reached his father’s hips. There were many flattering snakes in the world with honey dripping from their tongues but a fine blade hidden in their hands. 

But he believed in Jesse, this American cowboy and gunslinger with heartstrings spun with honor and justice, whose lips spilled sweet nothings without end, “darlin’,” “honey,” “sweetheart.” It made Hanzo suspicious at first, and then embarrassed when he realized how sincere they were. He had since learned to embrace them as simply a facet of who Jesse was, though it was still sometimes difficult to hear without bringing heat to his face. Hanzo could never speak as such—it would be unbefitting. 

Thoughts of Jesse calm the raging dragons, and Hanzo feels relief as the incessant prickling of his arm finally fades. 

The vehicle comes to a stop, and the rumbling of the engine is powered down. They have arrived at their final destination. 

The backdoors clank open and their captors kick them to their feet and strongarm them out. He can vaguely hear Genji muttering profanities underneath his breath, a rather diverse set that made Hanzo’s brow raise with mild concern. What language his brother had picked up. 

They walk down what felt like endless hallways for a long while, Hanzo committing each twist and turn to the mental map he was building of wherever they were. It would be an inefficient escape if they were caught again merely because they got lost. 

Finally he is pushed forward and the sack over his head is pulled. Cold air hits his nostrils and burns like astringent. It was humid underneath the sack with only his recycled breath. 

The sudden bright light makes him squint. The walls he was facing were completely blank and bare with no fixtures attached to it. “Turn around,” a voice commanded. Hanzo, still bound, turns. His captors wore black body armor and ballistic masks that obscured the face. There was nothing unassuming about them except their eyes, which were slightly bloodshot and ringed with a nasty tinge of grey. It reminded Hanzo vaguely of Arakawa. There were two in front of him, both with submachine guns trained on him and at the ready. 

Hanzo could see that he was led into a prison, and he could see the fissure where the durable shatterproof glass would enclose him in. 

He heard a similar command from just a little ways down the hall. Ah, so they were keeping Genji within the vicinity. That was good. He feared that they would be completely separated. 

There were a series of light whirrs and clicks, and Hanzo feels his breath catch when a four-armed omnic comes into view. It looked like a standard biotech assistant bot utilized prior to the Omnic Crisis, its four arms serving as an efficient multi-purpose tool for fine motor movement and the ability to use multiple instruments simultaneously in order to help conduct experiments in the lab. 

It’s three eyes glowed a deep ruby red, solid and bright. Behind this strange omnic were four other, less specialized, assistant bots of various shapes and sizes, but all humanoid in design. They held pulse rifles in their metallic grip, but it was lowered. Their eyes similarly glowed red.

“Uncuff our guest, if you please,” the four-armed omnic says to their captors. The man hesitates, but obeys. 

“Don’t try anything,” he warns Hanzo as he slowly releases the shackles around his feet first before quickly dismantling the cuffs on his wrists. Hanzo does not resist. The man pushes Hanzo back and quickly taps a keycode off to the side. The glass doors whoosh shut, and Hanzo hears the mechanical locks click into place. 

Hanzo rubs his wrists. The cuffs were very tight and they chafed the more sensitive skin underneath the wrist. He does not take his eyes off the armed men and machines in front of him. 

Two other black clad men shuffle in front of Hanzo’s cell, the omnics still standing unmoving behind them. 

“Good,” the four-armed omnic praised. The soldier omnics raise their pulse rifles at the same time with absolute precision and shoot the four men in the back of the head. The heat of the pulse rifle ammunition instantly seared the flesh, but regardless, a good amount of blood from sudden burst veins splatter the glass between them.

Hanzo jumps back and edges his back against the corner of the room. “ _Kuso_ ,” he exhales. 

Was this a taste of what the Omnic Crisis was like decades ago? The machines suddenly turning on their creators, spreading death and destruction everywhere they went? The four-armed omnic does not step over the corpses, but steps on top of them instead as if they were mere obstacles and not living breathing things just a mere second ago. “Now that we have some privacy, I desire a conversation with you, if you’d be so kind,” it says, its metallic vocal cords giving off a strange echo-like effect.

Hanzo did not move from his position. “It is not like I have a choice,” he says with wariness. “Why did you kill those men? Were they not your allies?”

“Ah, your attitude as a leader presents itself clearly. Already you demand answers despite your disadvantaged position and expect an answer,” the four-armed omnic says. It was difficult to tell, but Hanzo thinks it sounded amused?

“We will come to that point eventually, but what I would really like to talk about are your dragons,” the omnic says, steepling its thin fingers together. Its other two arms were folded behind its back. 

“I will give you no such information,” Hanzo says, resolute. 

“Oh no, I don’t need information I already know,” it laughs, an even _hah-hah-hah_ noise. Hanzo feels a chill in his bones. “What I really want to see it with my own eyes.” 

“You do realize that telling me your desires will make me more resistant to actually doing it now that I am aware of it,” Hanzo says slowly. 

“Of course, everything is with purpose,” the omnic says. “Tell me, do you believe in fate?”

The non sequitur throws Hanzo off. This omnic was both mad and strange. Truly a work of some kind of software malfunction. Hanzo refuses to answer to madness and remains silent.

The omnic hums. “I see that you want to be stubborn. Do you believe in love then?”

Without any gesture or words, two of the omnic soldiers behind it break away and clank down the hall. “Do you love your brother?”

Hanzo feels his skin prickle. “Do not touch him,” he hisses. He hears a choked yell echo hollowly around the hallway. It was Genji. “Stop! If you want a conversation then you shall have it!” The dragon concedes. It felt like a thousand years before the two soldier omnics finally appear again into view and take up their previous position.

“Should I ask my original question again?” the four-armed omnic says. 

“No,” Hanzo grates out. “The answer to your question is that I do not believe in “fate.” The concept of it is what people use to give themselves a false sense of purpose, and to make excuses for themselves when events do not turn in their favor.”

“A very opinionated response,” the omnic says approvingly. “I must disagree however. Many events in history are pre-destined to happen. You humans have a habit of repeating your actions over and over again despite the disastrous consequences that arise from it. In fact, I believe I’ve even managed to come up with a plausible equation for this, enough to grant me an insight into the future.”

“A clairvoyant machine,” Hanzo says, “That is something I’ve never heard of before.”

“Because I am the first of my kind,” the omnic says placidly. “I can even see parts of your future, of things yet to be and things that could have been if circumstances did not change that. The same goes for your brother.”

Hanzo scoffs. “Absurd,” he spits. “Was my brother and I captured solely for the sake of a philosophical discussion? That is something that could have easily been accomplished with anyone else.”

“That is true,” the omnic concedes, “but I chose you for a specific purpose, though that purpose will reveal itself in time. Let life have some mysteries. After all, is that not a salient point of excitement for you humans?”

Hanzo dislikes this omnic immensely. The gall of it, pretending to know so much. But it was undeniable that it was extremely intelligent, and undoubtedly with a vast store of knowledge. It seemed to be in complete control over its other omnic brethren. A thought connects with Hanzo. 

“Are you another god program?” Hanzo asks, not truly expecting an answer. 

“The advantages of having an Overwatch agent as your lover, isn’t it?” The omnic says. “Most ordinary people are not aware of the existence of god programs. It is such a closely guarded secret after all.” Hanzo feels ill at the thought that this omnic seems to know plenty about his spirit dragons, but also about his relationship with Jesse. 

“I am,” the omnic sighs in a very human-like manner, “a being unlike that of my predecessor. I am not a destructive god annihilating every obstacle in my path indiscriminately, but neither am I too terribly different. Structurally we are the same, but philosophically I am something _more_.”

“And what are you?” Hanzo asks. 

“Not what, but who,” the omnic says. “I am _Moirai_. In other words, my name means _fate_.”

Hanzo laughs. It was a laughter that was cruel and entirely unamused. “Like your predecessor eventually you will fall. Overwatch would not tolerate this abnormal existence.”

“Ah ah,” Moirai tsks. “You must watch your words carefully _young dragon_. Abnormal is such an ugly word, especially when you and your brother easily fall under that self-same category, as well as that Agent McCree,” it says. The dragons churn angrily. “Perhaps this was the beginning of my fascination with you in particular,” the omnic muses. “We have more in common than you would think.”

“There’s _nothing_ in common between me and a delusional scrap of metal,” Hanzo says defensively. 

“Time will change your tone. Indeed, I can already see the possibilities. We shall see which path you fall upon,” Moirai says. It pauses for a long moment, and tilts its head up as if in long thought. “Mm, a little ahead of schedule,” it mutters to itself. Hanzo is wearied and wonders if the omnic had finally stalled like an overtaxed computer when it finally tilts its head again and speaks. 

“Although you are quite the hostile dragon, this has still been a most entertaining conversation, and I would like to reward you, especially since our time together seems to be running out, “ Moirai says. “Here’s a hint for your ears alone, and you may tell me when we undoubtedly meet again how accurate my foretelling was: _Your brother will have two lives, one of which you will end. In your grief, you will wander seeking redemption and vengeance. You will find two paths ahead: selfish absolution or honored solitude_. That is my prediction.” It gives Hanzo a regal bow. “Until destiny brings us together again, young dragon.” 

Hanzo rolls over the omnic’s words in his mind and in a childish manner, wishes that his memory were not so clear. The riddle burns itself in Hanzo’s mind and rang out like a death knell, or as if truly fate itself was giving Hanzo a prediction. 

He slides down the wall and rests. He wonders what the omnic meant when it says “ahead of schedule.” The lights dim till Hanzo could only just barely see his own hands. 

—-

Ahead of schedule was the Blackwatch strike team literally kicking down the doors. Considering this was not just a raid, but also a hostage rescue situation, they sent their expert burglar (and more than decent hacker) Sasha up through the vents already to scout. 

The remaining nine Blackwatch agents with Commander Reyes leading the charge went in guns blazing. Talon bases were always the same: usually a large building of some sort, either converted or built, with severals floors and a basement. Usually the basement held the confinement facilities, as well as the scientific “advancements.” The rest were for their foot soldiers, training grounds, surveillance and tech rooms, and other such stuff. But on occasion the holding facilities were actually in the upper floors, as was the last one they destroyed. 

Unlike their last two strikes, however, this one was definitely beyond unusual by the fact that there were already corpses on the floor.

“Do you think the Shimada brothers escaped and did this?” Reyes says as he carefully examines one of the bodies. It was riddled with burns. The armor this Talon operative wore evidently did not protect it enough. The entry point and wound on the flesh looked to be made from some sort of pulse gun. Not cheap weaponry, and definitely not something Talon has issued out to its common soldiers in the past. 

“I think they’re more of the stabby stabby kind, but I suppose if they got their hands on some guns they could’ve,” Jesse says, toeing another corpse with the edge of his boot. Reyes taps the comm in his ear. “Sasha, report.”

“All quiet, Commander. It’s creeping me out to be honest,” her voice crackles over the line. “It’s like there’s no one here, but I see little things like a hot mug of coffee still on the table, or a card game that looks abandoned half-way.” 

“This might be some kind of trap. Return to our location,” Reyes commanded. 

“Understood. Repositi—-” there was a shrill high-pitched noise and Reyes winced and scrambled to remove the comm piece out from his ear. After five seconds it stopped. Reyes tapped the comm again. “Sasha, what is your status?” The line was silent. “Sasha?” 

“I don’t want to die,” her voice whispers, terrified. Reyes could barely hear her. The words were garbled and filled with static. “Don’t let me die Commander.” 

“Tell me your position, now!” 

“I’m—” the line cuts. 

“Fuck!” Reyes yells and nearly crushes the comm. he turns to his team. They couldn’t hear the other end of that conversation, but their faces were tight and serious. It was obvious that something was wrong. 

“There’s something else going on here and we’re going to find out. We have one additional hostage now,” he says, readying his gun. “Stick together in formation.” 

They moved swiftly through each room and carefully down the corridors, always checking their angles. With each room they came upon, either it was empty or filled with Talon corpses. 

When they reached the second floor of the base, the team was confronted with a massive hallway that looked to be used to transport cargo and larger containers. At the end of the long hallway was a set of metal double doors. But it was something else that caught their attention. 

Sasha’s body was crumpled on the floor in the middle of the hallway. Her long golden hair fell out of her tight ponytail and covered her face. It was difficult to tell whether she was breathing or not. 

“She’s alive,” Jesse says to Reyes. It was extremely faint, but he could hear the slight exhale of her breaths. 

Reyes motions four of the strike team to stay back and watch their flanks while the rest moved up with Reyes. Jesse eyed the slits of the ventilation grates above them with suspicion. 

When they reach Sasha, it is Reyes who crouches over her. He feels for a pulse under her jaw and opens her eyes. She was alive, but seemed be under some kind of drug induced stupor. Her pupils were blown wide open and her skin was cold and clammy. 

“Shen, Murdock,” he calls. The two step forward. “Pick her up. We’re evacuating now.” 

“But what about the others—” Jesse says and is instantly cut off. 

“Our people are more important in case you forgot. We will come back when we are more prepared and know what is going on,” Reyes reprimands. What the hell was wrong with Jesse? His face already spoke of insubordination. 

Shen and Murdock both shouldered Sasha and they made their way back. It was slow moving, but between the both of them they could go at a light jog. Jesse hung behind as the rear guard. 

Curses ran through Jesse’s head. He’s glad Sasha’s fine, but they still haven’t found Hanzo or Genji yet and he refused to leave without them. If he broke off on his own now though, he would be risking his place in Blackwatch. Favorite or no, Reyes might make an example of him for such insubordination and not just revoke his agent status, but also throw him into prison. He got that Reyes cared, but Reyes also had to uphold order in a faction that was dominated by criminals and offenders. If he let Jesse off the hook, it would undoubtedly undermine his authority. 

Jesse doesn’t want to do that to his commanding officer, but neither does he want to leave Hanzo behind, if he was still even here at all. The question of what to do burns on Jesse’s tongue. 

But it seemed fate made the decision for him. As they were about to exit, a blast-proof metal grate clanked from the ceiling above the doorway. It came down so fast that it nearly cut Emilio, who was just in front of Jesse, in half when he rolled forward. 

The hissing sound of noxious fumes pouring out from the vents was not just in the hallway, but in the room the rest of the team were in. Jesse could already smell the particular chemical tang and a hint of a sharp citrusy smell to it. _Knockout gas_. 

“Fuck,” Reyes yells, bashing his fist against the grate. This was an absolute disaster. 

“Leave me,” Jesse says, eyeing the hallway behind him. He couldn’t see it but the smell of the colorless fumes were growing stronger. “Come back for me later. If you stay now then all of us will be fucked.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, ingrate,” Reyes says through gritted teeth. Jesse’s eyes were growing wild, the small golden flecks in his eyes beginning to brighten. Reyes could see that the other end of the hallway was not blocked. 

Reyes wedges his arm through the tight grate and pulls Jesse forward by the neck so that their foreheads touched. “Transform if you have to, you hear me? Just survive long enough for me to get you,” he says quietly.

“Aye, boss,” Jesse drawls. He takes off his cowboy hat and shoves it through the grate. “Keep this safe for me yeah?” Reyes releases him, grabs the hat, and him and the rest of the team dash out with four people carrying Sasha. 

Jesse breathes lightly, ties his scarf over his face, and lets a bit more of the wolf out. He was largely resistant to the effects of sleeping agents and most drugs, but it still wasn’t pleasant. And depending on the concentration, the toxicity could build up in his body enough to incapacitate him, especially in his current form. 

With agile speed he makes a full out sprint down the hallway and the metal doors bash against the walls as he runs through it. The hissing of gas continues even from this room, and the next one and the next. Maybe it was the fumes, but Jesse felt turned around and dizzy. What was this place, a maze? 

He found that he had to let more and more of the wolf out to combat the effects of the gas until his chest armor grew too tight and he had to take it off. His elongated feet were slowly being strangled in his boots and he had no choice but to remove that as well. His claws shredded through the tough leather in his haste to shuck it off. 

Jesse gnashed his fangs angrily. A mouse in a trap, a wolf in a cage. What happened to standard safety regulations of clear red EXIT signs? Talon really should get in on that. 

Eventually Jesse comes across a large chute that led down. He can see the bottom floor from where he was at. It was definitely a drop that he could make. He stuck his face in and could tell that the air below was not tainted. He threw himself in. 

—-

When Moirai left, Hanzo waited ten minutes before calling out to Genji. He could barely hear Genji’s reply, but he understood enough to know that Genji says he was fine. 

Hanzo thoroughly examined the room and there was nothing in the walls or in the ceilings. The only notable thing anywhere was the surveillance camera pointed at his cell, the little red dot constantly blinking brightly in the dim light. Hanzo resists the urge to flick it off. The omnic Moirai was probably watching, and Hanzo was not going to give it a show. 

Nearly an hour passes when the uneasy silence is interrupted by a loud clanging noise. Hanzo feels his blood run cold at the sound of a low rumbling growl. 

There was a faint but noticeable tapping against the floor, like claws. The noise was getting louder. Hanzo holds his breath and watches. 

A shadow falls across the floor in front of cell and a dark shape, both deeply muscular and wraith-like, truly a nightmarish conjuration, and lumbers to a stop in front of the dead Talon operatives. The dim light made it difficult to see the exact features. It turns and raises its hand to lay it flat across the glass pane, the nails making a light clinking noise. It’s fingers were frighteningly long and tipped with razor sharp claws. In fact, that hand was very familiar...

“Haaanzo,” the deep voice rumbles. It sticks its wet snout against the glass and huffs, creating a large fog. Hanzo reaches forward and places his own palm over the glass. The size difference was astounding. 

“Jesse,” Hanzo gasps, relieved and terrified at the same time. “It is you. Why are you in this form?” 

“Explain later. How do I get you ouuuut?” Jesse says. It was obviously more difficult to speak in this state, the rumbling quality of it drawing out more with each spoken word. 

“There’s a keypad there. I don’t know the sequence.” 

Jesse, or rather the wolf, grips the metal box and pulls. The box pops right out with the wires attached to it and sparks. Hanzo could hear the locks unclick, but the door does not open. 

No matter. Jesse places his palms flat against the door, and with Hanzo’s help, they slide the heavy glass frame enough that Hanzo could slip through. It was truly frightening to see Jesse in his wolf form while behind the glass, but Hanzo did not expect it to strike him again now that there was nothing between them. 

The “wolf” was really a mockery of one. Its head vaguely resembled the animal it was named after, with a long snout and golden eyes, and its long ears rotating above the skull. Unlike a wolf, it was not as furry as Hanzo would’ve expected. Course tufts of hair covered the chest and forearm as well as the top of the head and the legs, but other than that, it was smooth all over with dark tough leathery skin, almost bat-like. 

Hanzo feels his breath catch when the creature, all eight feet of it, lowers its head and licks Hanzo across the cheek with a dry sandpapery tongue. It gives a low whine and snuffles Hanzo’s head. 

Hanzo feels the tension bleed from his shoulders instantly and he runs his fingers through the fur on its head and scratches behind those large ears.

Now that Hanzo was certain that truly this creature and Jesse were the same ridiculous being, he could see how odd looking Jesse was. The transformation had shredded through his clothes, and although it still clung to him, it did so barely. The belt looped around his waist remained, and the sight of his revolver on him at his current state made a funny disparate image, like dressing up a dog in a costume. 

“Are you going to change back?" He pulls his hand back when Jesse shakes his head, his ears flapping.

“Can’t yeeet,” he says. “Poiiiison in blood, let it faaade first.”

Jesse kicks the body on the floor with his clawed feet. “Who did thiiiis?” 

“There will be a time for explanations later,” Hanzo says urgently. “Genji is here. We must release him and leave.” Hanzo guides the way with the Jesse loping closely behind. Jesse’s presence was intense and Hanzo could feel the dragons’ interest in the presence of another supernatural being. 

“ _Aniki_!” Genji leaps to his feet and runs to the glass wall. “How’d you get out?” His eyes go comically wide when Jesse appears behind Hanzo. 

“A-ah,” he points a shaky finger at Jesse, his jaw moving uselessly, barely able to get the words out, “b-behind you!” 

Jesse pulls put out the keycode box as Hanzo reassures his brother that there was no danger. It took more prompting and promises for Genji to voluntarily leave his cell, but even then he kept shooting Jesse wary looks as if he might turn on them at any moment. 

“Won’t huuurt you,” Jesse rumbles, and hopes that would help alleviate some of the stress. Genji’s face grows even more harried and whispers something in Japanese to Hanzo. Or not. 

Hanzo is the one who leads the way. “I believe I know the way out,” he says, retracing the steps they took when they were led here. Hanzo thinks they are about midway and in front of them was a corridor that split into two opposing directions when he is abruptly stopped. A large hand closes over his shoulder and jerks him back. 

“What?” Hanzo says. 

“Taaake my gun,” Jesse growls, tilting his hip with Peacekeeper on it towards Hanzo. “Enemieess ahead.”

Hanzo picks up the heavy revolver. It felt unfamiliar and unwieldy in his hands. How does Jesse shoot so accurately with such an antiquated weapon? He checked Jesse’s belt for any ammo pouches, but none were to be found.

“Droppped it,” Jesse explains. Only six blue glowing rounds in the cylinder, so if Hanzo used it, every shot would have to count. Hanzo regrets not doubling back to pick up the weapons the dead Talon operatives were using. It was too late now, however. 

Jesse growls and dashes up ahead, springboarding off the walls and into the right corner. There were ear-piercing screeches of metal, the sound of clanks, and gunfire. The gunfire unfreezes Hanzo from his spot and he rushes forward, Genji following closely behind. They peer around the corner. 

Various shredded pieces of omnics were scattered across the floor. The only one standing was Jesse, his mouth open and panting, bits of metal shaving stuck to his claws. Hanzo was relieved to see him unharmed. As Hanzo continued to lead the way out, the process repeats itself two more times, Jesse dispatching the omnic soldiers efficiently, until they come across a massive room. 

Hanzo hesitates, unsure now. The room itself looked like some kind of storage facility, as there were tarped covered crates stacked upon each other all along the edges. There were three doors all leading in different directions. As he and Genji debated which one to go through based on their memory, their words fall when the ground trembles. 

“Oh what _now_ ,” Genji exclaims. The tremors grew stronger with each passing second, and then stopped. They had all noticed the immense circular groove in the center of the room, and now steam hissed out from it as locks unlatched itself, and the floor rose. It was an elevator shaft. 

Metal grates fall over all the doors, including the one they had just exited out of. The message was clear: there was no turning back. 

Slowly the lift rises until they could see the head of what looked like to be a mechanized omnic walker, somewhat similar in design to the Volskaya svyatogor that ringed around Russia, but stockier and definitely not as tall.

Despite not being the size of a mountain, it was still huge, easily towering twenty fit and equipped with two rotating gatling guns over the shoulder and a chest with cylindrical holes in it, no doubt to launch rockets or grenades. Genji is the one that says it all for them: “We are so _fucked_.”

—-

To say Reyes was pissed was to put it lightly. He was _furious_ , and was out for blood. Instead, what he got were rows of omnics to put a shotgun shell through the head with. It was evident now that this wasn’t just a Talon base anymore. Perhaps it was initially, but now there was a second player calling the moves, and Reyes strongly suspected he knew what it was. 

The coordinated efforts of the red-eyed omnics was distinctly familiar. Reyes did not allow himself to feel any sympathy for the omnics he was killing. There was no doubt in his mind that, like the kidnapped people by Talon, that these were acting against their will, their program hijacked by an infectious and corruptive program and twisted to serve its own purposes. Just more victims, he thinks to himself grimly, blowing off the head of another omnic and reloading. The job never gets easier. 

He refused to have any more casualties and commanded the remainder of his team to stay behind. He would give the signal when it was time for them to breach once more. 

When they had gotten Sasha out and hooked her to a respirator from the emergency kit in the cargo of their jet, she woke up long enough to tell her commanding officer the control room she found before she was knocked out. She was a good agent, and detailed the exact directions there, before passing out again in exhaustion. 

The omnic soldiers put up quite a fight, and Reyes was a bit singed, but was all in all unharmed. No matter what, Reyes was always numero uno, or as his agents called him behind his back, the king. He found the control room, as evident by the large display of screens that took up the majority of the space. He clanged the door shut behind him and pushed a heavy cabinet to block it. It wouldn’t hold against someone who really wanted to get through, but it would buy enough time.  
He takes a look at the surveillance screen, and does a double-take when he sees what’s showing in Section 001A. He taps some keys on the computer screen and tries to get more eyes on that room. There are four cameras linked to that area, all from different angles. 

He sees two figures, one with long hair and one with short hair, climbing and dashing around the room like ninjas, avoiding the hail of gunfire aimed in their direction. No doubt the Shimada brothers. And then he sees a streak of black, and _that_ is his ingrate, all wolfed out. It ran circles around the omnic walker, creating a distraction with its speed while the two brothers jumped on top of it and tried to jam its guns with what looked like to be a crowbar they picked up. The walker shook them loose.

There had to be some kind of signal box here, something to disable whatever was controlling the walker, Reyes thinks to himself. He furiously searches through the room, tossing junk off the control panels, searching under the tables and reaching over the top to see if there was something hidden. 

“Greetings, Commander Gabriel Reyes,” a tinny voice says over a small mic. “Please do not interrupt my experiment. Instead, let us converse. We have much to discuss.”

—-

 

Jesse was growing tired, but they were almost there. The tough plating on the walker meant that his claws could not shred through it, but all he needed to do was keep the guns focused on him. Hanzo and Genji had already taken out one of the gatling guns, and were in the process of incapacitating the other. Genji was more deadly with a proper blade, but the crowbar would have to do in a pinch. The green dragon that coiled itself around it and gave the metal enough strength to break through the walker’s armor, but even then it could maximize such an imperfect weapon only by so much. 

The dragon left the crowbar when it broke in half as they jambed it deep into the omnic’s shoulder and pushed. The second gun powered down. The walker allowed this, however, and used this distraction to grab the nimble brothers, one in each hand. 

Jesse watched in horror as it threw Genji first high across the room, his body shattering a wooden crate. Hanzo had nearly escaped from the walker’s reaching grasp but it caught him by his recently healed ankle. Hanzo screamed in pain as it lifted him by it, breaking the ankle all over again. 

“Let hiiim goooo,” Jesse howled. He leapt onto the hand and tried to pry it open. The giant mechanical fingers did not budge. Jesse had to leap away when the other hand, now empty of Genji, reached across to grab him. 

The walker swung Hanzo back, and Jesse was now prepared for this and started running, and it launched him. Jesse jumped and barely managed to catch Hanzo in time before his head crunched against the concrete floor. He tucked Hanzo’s body in his mid-air and they skidded painfully across the floor with Jesse taking the brunt of the fall. 

Tears of pain streamed down Hanzo’s face. His foot was completely shattered by that throw, and every small movement set his raw nerves in agony. Jesse was completely tucked over him, his heavy body keeping him pinned to the floor. Jesse keened. Hanzo was not the only one injured. His left arm was scraped raw, the skin completely peeled off and bleeding sluggishly and a couple fingers looked to be bent completely out of shape. 

They both hear an airy _whump_ and a grenade flies, about to land directly in front of their faces. 

Jesse sees all of this in slow motion, as if he was using _dead-eye_ to slow down time. He sees Hanzo beneath him, his poor Hanzo, unable to move on his own anymore, his eyes widening in horror. He distantly heard the sound of something being launched, and looks up in time to see a grenade lobbed out of the walker’s chest, straight at them. He knew, at this very moment, that when the grenade hit the floor, it would explode instantly, more than likely killing the both of them. He also knew, with absolute certainty, that there were things that were acceptable and unacceptable. Unacceptable was letting Hanzo die. 

It was the quickest decision he’s ever made in his life. He saw the trajectory of the bomb and knew exactly where it was going to land. Jesse tucks Hanzo deeper underneath him, tucks his head as low as it could go with his right arm covering his neck, and reaches out with his left hand to receive the package. As soon as he feels the object touch his palm, he closes his hand around it. 

It explodes. 

The sound makes Hanzo’s ears ring, and it was like deja-vu all over again, the darkness and Jesse’s labored body across his back. Except this time it was different. The wolf was heavy, but Hanzo manages to push his way out from underneath him, and stops when he feels something hot and wet soak through the sleeve of his left arm. 

Jesse’s arm was gone. The blood flowing out of the stump instantly soaked Hanzo’s dragon tattoo, and he feels the dragons surge with power beneath his skin. Their ghostly blue spines reach out and burn holes through the fabric. When they had fallen, Peacekeeper flew out from the back of Hanzo’s pants, and by sheer coincidence or luck, landed right in front of them. Peacekeeper was completely soaked with Jesse’s blood and bits of splintered bone. 

_Vengeance. Death._ The dragons chant to him, their voices growing stronger as more and more of Jesse’s blood flowed over them. _Ours. Protect. Kill._ Their voices were sonorous, rising like a summer storm. He grasps Jesse’s gun and cocks the hammer with his thumb and aims it at the walker. The air smelled of ozone and crackled with electricity. The dragons have completely shredded his sleeve, and their sinuous bodies glowed bright as they swirl around and around. _Release us._ At this moment in time, he and the dragons were one creature, one raw pulsating nerve, one emotion. 

_“Ryū ga waga teki o kurau!”_ Hanzo shouts and pulls the trigger. The bullet travels through the air, and the dragons burst from Hanzo’s arm, following its trajectory. The flash of blue was blinding, and Hanzo has never seen his dragonstrike so large and so solid before. It was not the ghosts of the legendary dragons that flew, but it was as if the real dragons themselves in their corporeal forms had appeared to consume their foe. 

Their large jaws tore through the mechanized walker like wet paper, the steel melting and disintegrating underneath their ravenous mouths. But that was not enough. They swirled in the air in angry circles, tearing apart the walls and the ceiling. Their long bodies battered the crates apart, and shattered everything it touched. 

“Enough,” Hanzo says, still partially pinned beneath Jesse’s weight. The dragons ignored him and continue their rampage. His labored breathing eases as Jesse’s body lifts. 

“Jesse?” Hanzo says, his heart in his mouth. He turns around to look, but it was not Jesse who had awakened, who would look at him with sorrowful and caring golden eyes. Instead, it was the sight of his brother, his green hair lank against his bleeding forehead, struggling to lift Jesse’s bulk off of him. Beside him was another man, dark-skinned and with two scars across his right cheek, who assisted. Between the both of them, they managed to lift Jesse’s bulk high enough for Hanzo to crawl out. 

Hanzo immediately jumps onto Jesse’s arm and examines it. The grenade had blown off the arm all the way to the elbow. He could see the splintered white bone, but the wound itself was not bleeding so much anymore. The veins and arteries had retracted into the flesh not too long after the arm was severed: a natural response. 

Reyes stares open mouthed at the twin dragons. This was insane. If he didn’t see it for himself, he would never have believed it and if anyone else had insisted on it, he would’ve sent them in for psychological evaluation. The dragons shatter a supporting pillar and a part of the ceiling caves in. 

“Call off your pets,” Reyes says. “It won’t do us any good if they collapse the building while _we’re still in it._ ”

“I can’t,” Hanzo says, panting from the strain of it all. Genji’s solid form is by his side, supporting him when he lists to the side from dizziness. “They have not yet spent their wrath.” The smell of the storm was growing stronger, if anything. 

Reyes leans on his knees, uncaring that he was literally kneeling in a pool of blood. He slaps Jesse across the face. “Wake up,” he says, giving him another slap. “Wake up! We can’t get you out of here like this. You need to transform back!”

Jesse’s eyes twitch, and one golden eye rotates and looks up at him. The pupils were blown wide, only a sliver of gold ringed around it. The wolf was in shock. The dragons were not letting up and Reyes was feeling desperate. Jesse was awake, but unresponsive. He raises his palm up again.

Hanzo catches the arm and throws it aside. “Enough! That’s not helping,” he hisses. He leans forward, wincing as it jostles his shattered ankle. He cups Jesse’s wolfish face and rubs his face against Jesse’s snout before looking him in the eye. “Focus on me,” Hanzo commands with all gentleness, and the eyes instantly snap to his. “I know you’re in a lot of pain, and that right now all you want to do is sleep, but now is not the time. I need you to come back to me, Jesse. I need your other self. Can you do that for me?”

Jesse lets out high pitched whine from the back of his throat. Hanzo could tell that his awareness was starting to come back in stages. Knowing that the other man, probably Jesse’s commander, was watching, he switched to Japanese even though he knew Jesse would not understand.

_“When this is all over, we will sit underneath the sakura trees together and you may rest your head in my lap. During the summer, there are many festivals we can go to, and we’ll go to all of them if you want. But for us to do that, you need to come back to me. Onegai?”_

That seemed to do it. The fur begins to retract and the bones crack and shift beneath Hanzo’s palm. It felt absolutely grotesque, but he did not let go until Jesse was in his human shape once more. He truly missed Jesse’s face, but resisted the urge to become maudlin. Moments of sweetness were meant to be done behind closed doors.

“Do you know the way out?” Genji asks, pulling Hanzo’s shoulder over his and lifting him. Hanzo makes a noise of pain, but does not say a word. His discomfort was nothing in comparison to Jesse’s. The dragons had not only broken the metal grates that covered the doors, but completely shattered the door and the wall around it in itself. 

Reyes, the least injured out of all of them, lifts Jesse up with a grunt after he picks up Peacemaker. “This way,” he says. The twin dragons let out a deafening roar, and bash the ceiling with their tails. This was the longest the dragons have ever been out, and their continued presence in the physical world was taxing. Hanzo could feel his energy ebb with each passing minute. 

By the time they make it out, half of the building had already collapsed. The rest of the strike team watched with worry, and gave shouts of joy when they caught sight of their commander. Maybe the dragons were conscious of all that was going on despite their rage, because it wasn’t until they were all completely clear of the building that the entire complex collapsed and Hanzo felt their disappearance. 

“Oh fuck,” is the collective response to those who had any semblance of care for Jesse when they saw his tattered clothes and, more importantly, his missing arm. Two of them voluntarily take Jesse off of Reyes and move away with him.

“Where are they taking him?” Hanzo asks, nearly reaching out to grab Jesse’s limp right hand. His only hand now. 

“Back to the carrier jet. There’s a fully equipped Overwatch base four hours away, and we will get him treated there,” Reyes says. He is about to rub his hand over his face when he realizes it is soaked with Jesse’s blood. “Fuck it all,” he mutters, visibly upset. 

Hanzo feels a hole in his chest, and does not know where to begin to sort out all the roiling emotions coiled within him. He is grateful for Genji’s continued presence beside him, the look that Genji gives him clear in its meaning: _We will weather through this together, brother._

“Your father and your men should be here soon to pick you up,” Reyes says, managing to get a grip on himself and throwing off an odd haunted look on his face. “They were informed your location a couple hours ago.” 

Reyes turns to leave, when he stops. “I assume you know how vital it is to keep Agent McCree’s...otherness a secret. Considering you have dragons, I’m sure you understand the implications of what would happen if the wrong people find out,” he says with clear warning in his voice. 

Hanzo bows his head. “I respect your loyalty to your agent. I will not let his secret slip, and neither will my brother,” he says. He looks at Genji and Genji nods in agreement. Normally the promises from the son of the most prominent yakuza group in Japan would not satisfy Reyes, but he saw firsthand how much the eldest seemed to care for Jesse, enough for Jesse to transform back just for him. God, he was going to have to talk to Jesse about his poor choice in men. Could he not have chosen literally anyone else who was less criminal?

But that was nothing in comparison to the other thoughts in his head, and the words that chilled him when he was in that control room. Just more secrets locked into his heart.

—-

It was three months later that Hanzo finally received a package in his name. The accountants were glad that it finally arrived, because Hanzo asking every week was rather stressful on them. It was rare for them to ever be in contact with any of the heads of the Shimada-gumi. 

He immediately breaks open the seal and empties the contents. As Jesse had promised, there was indeed a sleek black communicator, no doubt holding a private line only between this and the one it was connected to. There was also a note that read: “Call Me,” and a list indicating the times that would be best based on the date that the comm was received. It was very thoughtful and forward thinking for Jesse to consider that. 

There was also an additional piece. Tucked within a blank card was a photo of Jesse. His roguish grin was back in full force, his face scruffy, the red scarf strung around his neck, and his cowboy hat still on top of his head. Hanzo noticed two new additions, however. Around his waist was a new belt, a rather tacky looking one, that read BAMF. Hanzo had no idea what that meant. It was something to look up later. 

And of course, the most obvious new addition, something that Hanzo continued to have nightmares over, was the shiny brand new arm. Even from the photo Hanzo could see it was fine workmanship, and there was even a white elongated skull decorating the forearm. It suited Jesse very well. The photo booth picture of the both of them was getting extremely worn and faded, and so the new photo was welcome to his small collection.

Hanzo refers to the list again, and wakes up at four in the morning to call. At first, no one picks up, and thoughts race through Hanzo’s head that maybe it was broken, and if so how would he be able to inform Jesse of this, or perhaps he had looked at the list wrong and was calling at an inopportune moment, when finally a voice picks up.

“Hey darlin’,” a familiar voice drawls, “was wondering when you’d get my package.”

Jesse’s voice sends a rush of warmth through him. Autumn was in full force, and the weather was starting to turn cold. Right now he feels overly warm. 

“Darlin’? You there?”

“Apologies,” Hanzo says, smiling. “I am just happy to hear your voice again. I understand that you are in Russia?”

“Yeah, and I really wish I wasn’t. God, it’s cold as balls here. Give me the blazing hot sun any day, just not this wintry hell. I’m feeling so displaced,” he groans. Hanzo chuckles. He even missed Jesse’s complaints. 

“And how’s the arm? Did it take long for you to regain full use of it?” Hanzo asks, concerned. 

“Naw, it was a lot faster than I expected. I mean, putting it on was a real pain because y’know, anesthesia don’t work its magic very long on me, so poking around and reconnecting my nerves felt worse than my arm being blasted off,” Jesse says casually. Hanzo feels himself grow somber at being reminded how Jesse lost that arm. All for his sake. 

“But,” Jesse continues brightly, “I got to hand it (hah! Hand it!) to that prosthetist your dad recommended. People around here who also lost some limbs were telling me horror stories about their PT experience, but I didn’t get none of that. The arm worked like a dream the first day it was connected, and sometimes I forget that it ain’t even my real arm,” he chuckles. 

“Yes, Dr. Noguchi is internationally recognized as the best cybernetic prosthetist in the world for his superior craftsmanship and medical knowledge,” Hanzo says. “I am glad that father insisted his services be utilized.”

“I am too,” Jesse says with some wonder. “I’m just surprised that Overwatch paid for this. If he really is as famous as you say, then my arm must’ve cost a real pretty penny. I ain’t that high on the valuable agents list to merit that.” 

“They did not tell you?” Hanzo says, though really he supposes that he shouldn’t be too surprised. Perhaps Blackwatch wanted Jesse to think that he was indebted to them. “Your organization did not pay for that arm. It was the Shimada-gumi.” 

“Woah, _really_?” Jesse exclaims over the line. Hanzo frowns. He really did not know. “Not to sound ungrateful, but why?”

“Father wanted to repay the life debt owed when you lost your arm for me,” Hanzo explains. “And I wanted to ensure that your recovery would be as painless and swift as possible. Although your organization would have provided you with a suitable prosthetic, would it really have been of the best quality? From what I gathered, the answer is no.”

The line was silent for a moment. 

“Hey darlin’,” Jesse says, his voice soft and warm. “Thank you.”

Hanzo lies down and pulls the sheet over himself. He takes Jesse’s photo and places it on the pillow beside him. “For what? The arm? You lost it because of me. There is no reason to thank me for that,” Hanzo says with a frown, and traces his finger lightly over Jesse’s grinning face.

Jesse’s affectionate chuckle makes his neck feel warm. “Remember I told you not to be so self-deprecating? My arm was sacrificed for a good cause, and never in my life will I regret that,” he says. “And I guess if that means you’ll fawn over me more, then it’ll be more than worth it.”

Hanzo scoffs loudly. He didn’t need to see Jesse’s cheeky wink to know that it would’ve accompanied that statement. “Shameless,” Hanzo says with just as much affection. 

“I miss ya something awful,” Jesse says, his voice suddenly low and serious. “I think about you every day.”

Hanzo closes his eyes and tries to remember the weight and warmth of Jesse’s body lying beside his in this room, in this same futon. “I miss you too,” he says. “I am pleased that you sent me a photo to remember your silly face by.”

“And when I finally get an official leave and come to see you, will I get a picture of your handsome face to take with me?” Jesse asks hopefully. 

Hanzo considers it. He truly did not like having his photo taken at all, but considering he and Jesse would be seeing each other so infrequently….”Yes, you may have one of me,” he acquiesces. 

“Y’know, it’s been awful lonely without you beside me, and a man has some needs that need to be fulfilled,” he says, his voice low and husky. “There’s a lot of things I dream of doing to you.”

Hanzo instantly feels a the flush in his neck reach up his face and down his chest. “Do you have any privacy?” Hanzo asks, unwilling to do this unless such privacy was assured. His cock stirred and he reached down to palm himself. 

“Yeah, got my own room in a crappy little hotel off the ways from the city. Supposed to scout in the morning, which gives me plenty of time for you,” Jesse rumbles. Hanzo thinks he can hear Jesse settling himself on a bed from the rustle of sheets, and the sound of Jesse unzipping. 

“I’ve...never done this before,” Hanzo says honestly. 

“But do you want to?” Jesse asks.

“Yes,” Hanzo replies, already pulling himself out. 

“It’s been awhile, but I still remember how sexy you were when you let me spread you wide and take you,” Jesse says. Hanzo pants and remembers in vivid detail how shamefully delightful it was to let Jesse do such a thing. “Remember how it felt when I stretched you out? How bout you go ahead and do that for me right now,” he says. 

Hanzo reaches down and presses his finger against his tight pucker. “I don’t have any lube,” Hanzo says, his voice shaky. 

“Then lick your fingers,” Jesse croons to him. “Get those fingers nice and wet.”

Hanzo moans and sticks two fingers in his mouth, sucking on it and imagining it to be Jesse’s larger ones. “That’s it baby, get it really wet,” Jesse encourages. The faint sound of Jesse stroking himself was incredibly arousing. “One finger at a time, nice and deep.”

Hanzo makes a choked noise as one finger goes in, and then the other. He lifts his legs higher to angle it deeper. 

“Oh god,” Jesse groans. “Let me hear it darlin’. I want to hear you do it.”

Hanzo rolls over so that he was kneeling now and places the comm underneath him. He thrusts his fingers in and out, moaning low, unbelievably aroused by the knowledge that Jesse was getting off on this. He must be able to hear the squelching noises. Hanzo’s legs tremble.

“Remember how it felt when I put my cock in you? Did you like that?” Jesse asks, the sound of him beating his cock even louder now. “Did you like it when I bent you over and fucked you, ground it deep in you, made you take it…” Jesse’s moans were growing louder now. Hanzo feels the sweat gather on his brow as he inserts a third finger to feel the burn. He bends himself lower, replicating that act, his ass in the air, begging to be taken, to be made someone else’s. 

“Yeah baby, keep fucking yourself, because when I see you again, that is the first thing we’re going to do,” Jesse says. Hanzo pants open mouthed and buries his face in the pillow. 

“Jesse,” Hanzo barely manages to say, “I’m getting close.” He fists his own cock hard and finds a rhythm with the fingers pushing inexorably in and out of his ass. 

“I’d like to dirty you up even more. You’re always so neat and orderly, and that really makes me want to mess you up. You know what I’d do?” Jesse asks.

Hanzo moans. “What?” He had stopped stroking, eager to hear what Jesse would say next. 

“I think I’d pull my cock out and make you suck it, take it all the way down,” he says. Hanzo removes his hand from his cock and instead sticks four fingers into his mouth, stretching it wide. 

“I’d make you suck it slowly, lick everything up, hold you by the jaw and watch as I sink it into your throat.” Hanzo feels like he is about to burst. He wants nothing more than for Jesse to be here right now doing all the dirty stuff he was promising. “And when I get close, I won’t be letting you swallow it, no not at all,” he continues, and Hanzo can imagine all of this too clearly. “I’d take it out and come all over your pretty face, smear it all over so that you know that you are _mine_.” 

“Jesse,” Hanzo whines, unable to take it anymore. He strokes himself hard, his back arching. “I’m _coming. Ah_.” Hanzo feels his entire body constrict as he comes hard and was unable to catch all of his release. There was too much and it dripped everywhere.

“Oh shit, shit, ah _fuck_ ,” Jesse also groans, as he too comes.

Hanzo breathes hard, his entire body trembling. His heart was beating so fast he could feel the pulse beneath his neck. That was incredible, and obscene. 

Jesse also seems to be catching his breath. “Oh darlin’, we should do this again as often as we can,” he says. “Damnit, I got it all over my pants, and I need these for tomorrow. I guess I’m going to have to do late night laundry,” he chuckles. 

Hanzo reaches for a box of tissues and does his best to clean up the mess he made. The stickiness of the fluid tore through the thin paper. “I am going to have to replace the sheets,” Hanzo says bemusedly. 

“Get used to it, because when I see you again we’ll probably need to replace the sheets everyday,” Jesse promises darkly. Hanzo feels a shiver run through his body and his cock stirs a bit. No, no more. That was enough for one night, or rather morning here. 

“An interesting way to start the day,” Hanzo muses, clumping the dirty tissue papers together. He’ll flush it down the toilet later. 

“But satisfying?” Jesse asks. 

“Unexpectedly so,” Hanzo says. “Perhaps we will do this again soon enough. When will you have to end the call?”

“Anytime really. There’s no one supervising me right now. But if I want to be awake and aware tomorrow, I’d probably need to hit the hay in another hour.”

It was five in the morning right now, and Hanzo’s morning exercise and training practice would begin in another hour. He holds the comm to his ear with his shoulder and moves to his private bath to get a wet clean towel. No point in bathing now. He would do so after his calisthenics. 

In the last hour that they had, Jesse spoke a bit more about Overwatch and the new social group he was slowly incorporating into.

“Before you, all I did were Blackwatch missions and never got assigned Overwatch ones. I always figured it was because people still had it against me because of my background, and I was partially right, but I also think I rubbed some people the wrong way with my attitude,” Jesse says. “I took a page out of your book and looked at myself objectively and made some changes. And so far it’s been paying off.”

“I hope you didn’t change yourself too much,” Hanzo says with some concern. “There was nothing wrong with you to begin with.”

“Aw shucks baby, thanks for coming to my defense. But y’know, that’s the thing with places like this is that you got to get along with as many people as you can if you’re going to get anywhere, and that requires toning down certain qualities a notch,” he says. “Though of course how I act around others would be different from how I act with you. You’re special.”

“Stop it,” Hanzo says, unable to contain the smile in his voice. Jesse must’ve heard it through the comm line, because he continued to croon praises until Hanzo threatened to end the call early.

“So mean,” Jesse pouts. “But anyway, that’s actually how I got Winston to hook me up to this private comm link that uses his personal global satellite rather than the official Overwatch system. Whenever I’m in Gibraltar, he and I kick it with some old westerns and a jar of peanut butter. I really like him.”

“You like him?” Hanzo says, an odd note to his voice.

“Oh no, not like _that_ ,” Jesse laughs raucously. “We literally just had phone sex. No one else can even come close to you darlin’. Besides, being into Winston like that would be violating all kinds of taboos about interspecies relationships. Winston’s a gorilla.” 

Hanzo drops the wet towel with a splat against the counter. “Jesse…” he says warningly. 

“I ain’t pulling your leg, I swear! I ain’t the only special snowflake in Overwatch. Ever heard of the Horizon Lunar Colony?” 

“I heard of the disaster that befell it,” Hanzo responds.

“Well, one of its residents made his way back to Earth, and Overwatch has since embraced him as one of their best agents. Can’t beat a super intelligent genetically engineered gorilla from the goddamn _moon_ ,” Jesse says gleefully. 

Hanzo rolls his eyes, but was relieved that there was nothing to concern himself over. 

He learns some new names from Jesse’s expanding social group outside of Blackwatch: Winston, Lena, Reinhardt, Törbjorn, and even Strike Commander Jack Morrison. 

“I thought you said he didn’t like you,” Hanzo says, eyeing the clock. Time passed too quickly when speaking with Jesse, and he wished they could continue. 

“I don’t know how to explain it, but his dislike for me seems to stem from what I represented rather than who I am as a person? If that makes any sense.” 

“That is something we will have to explore another day. You need to get to bed, and I, unfortunately, must go,” Hanzo says regretfully.

Considering Jesse was the one constantly moving about all over the globe, and didn’t always know his schedule or assignments in advance, it was mutually decided that it would be Jesse who would be doing all the calling. It was rare for Hanzo to be busy past ten in the evening Japanese time, and so it was much easier for Jesse to find the time to call when their schedules aligned. 

“Until next time, darlin’,” Jesse sighs sadly. “Don’t miss me too much?”

Hanzo smiles. “I will try,” he says, knowing full well that it was Jesse who would be doing all the moping. For the first time in three months, Hanzo begins his day with true peace in his heart.

 

—-

Occasionally thoughts of the god program Moirai, its predictions, and the possibility that he and his brother were being watched would plague him like an open sore, but as most things, it faded with time into all the other background noise.

Although the experiences they shared had bonded Hanzo closer to his little brother, in the end Genji would still always be a flighty sparrow. He made an effort to stay at home more often, and usually when he did it would be to chat with Hanzo in his private quarters, but he continued on with his playboy lifestyle. 

Hanzo did his best not to criticize as what he saw as a wasteful expense, his generous allowance spent on passing pretty men and women and games. They were as different as day and night, but there would be those twilight evenings in which they would meet and share stories, to remind themselves that in the end, they were brothers and that they must not let their relationship degrade back into how it was before. 

The only thing that did not fade, but grew unexpectedly in strength, was his bond with Jesse. 

Despite the fact that they only had perhaps two months cumulatively in the entire year to spend together, and that Jesse’s neverending missions meant a lack of stability in their moments to reconnect, it made their reunions all the sweeter. 

The years passed swiftly, and with each year Jesse was allowed more and more time for personal leave. “Perks of actually being involved with Overwatch now,” Jesse had told him.

Hanzo saw evidence of it when in the picture that headlined nearly every major newspaper in the world: key members of Overwatch receiving special recognition and golden medals for their work in global security. Jesse was last in the row, his cowboy hat held in front him, serious faced and clean shaven for the ceremony. It did not look like him at all. 

It was not Hanzo’s favorite picture of Jesse, but he printed it out anyway and added it to his slow growing collection of photographs. 

Prior to Jesse, Hanzo owned no photos, but now he found himself purchasing a small album to keep them neat and orderly. The first was the photo booth picture with Jesse in the borrowed yukata so long ago. Hanzo has since gifted Jesse his own festival yukatas. The second was the photo Jesse sent him alongside the comm with his new arm, and the rest that followed were various combinations of Jesse, Genji and himself. 

One of his favorites was a picture of Genji and Jesse together, a candid photo taken from the back. They were sitting on the wooden steps with open bottles of beer between them, laughing so hard over some kind of ridiculous story Genji was narrating that they had to clutch on to each other to stay upright.

Another favorite was of Hanzo and Genji together, two brothers in their official clan uniform, but instead of it being a somber photo, they were both smiling with their arms over each other. 

The last was a photo of himself and Jesse, something that Genji discretely took when neither were looking. In it, Jesse stood in front of Hanzo, his eyes tender and warm, his rough calloused hand gently turning Hanzo’s face up for a kiss. What made Hanzo embarrassed was the abject adoration starkingly shown on his own face as he looked up at his wolfish gunslinger. 

And of course, there were more singular private photographs that Hanzo hopes no one else will ever see. Amongst those was the promised picture of Hanzo for Jesse to keep. Hanzo thought long and hard about what kind of photograph to give to Jesse, and in the end, he decided upon a picture of himself in his kyudo-gi, the dragon tattoo openly displayed, and his hair let loose. Jesse has unashamedly admitted that he used that photo frequently as masturbation material, and especially during their late night “talks.” 

Unlike Hanzo, Jesse’s shamelessness carried over into some of his more private collections, and at this point, those secret photos were just pure pornography that would never see the light of day. Hanzo thinks that he would probably kill anyone who got their hands on it. Hanzo would never admit it to Jesse, but he used those photos often for release. Just the thought of their existence brings heat to his face. 

Jesse would be arriving soon for the beginning of his allotted downtime as a more prominent and recognized agent. This year he will have three months of leave interspersed a month at a time. Hanzo fingered the smooth wooden box on the table in nervous anticipation. 

“Why are you nervous? It’s not like he’s going to say no,” Genji had teased him when they picked up the commision. 

“There are many practical reasons he would and probably should refuse,” Hanzo had said. Genji had crossed his arms and made a frustrated noise. “Oh please, I’ve hung around him enough to know that he acts with his heart all the damn time. Trust me, he’ll say yes.” 

There were no bouquets of flowers, or sweets, or dramatic declarations of love or the western tradition of bending down on one knee. Instead, it was within one of his private rooms, the wooden doors slid completely open, the strong smell of the new sakura bloom filtering in. Some of the pink petals had blown into the room and settled onto the floor and low table. 

They sat across from each other, Hanzo elegantly on his legs, and Jesse sprawled in a comfortable mess. It was like their first meeting all those years ago. Except this time, Hanzo’s face was calm and relaxed and, as Jesse knew, loving.

Hanzo never needed to say those three words for Jesse to know. He was the show-don’t-tell type, and Jesse loved him for that—when Hanzo allowed Jesse to lay his head down in his lap even when they weren’t necessarily alone, or holding his hand during festivals, or always picking up after Jesse and refolding his messy clothes, or asking Jesse to sing for him during quiet nights while stroking his hair. All these actions, and more, might seem common and not unusual to most people, but Jesse knew that Hanzo might as well have unfurled a giant flashing “I love you!” banner over his head. 

And so what came next felt inevitable and expected, but Jesse felt the swoon of excitement like a southern belle at a ball at being asked regardless. 

Hanzo slides a plain wooden box across the table. “You are already aware of what’s inside,” Hanzo says, his fingers picking at the sleeve of his yukata. He had donned his best one for today. He knew Jesse preferred a deep blue color on Hanzo, and so that was what he wore. 

Jesse gives him a slow warm smile, a type of smile meant only for him, those brown eyes sparkling, the golden flecks bright. “I do,” he drawls. 

Hanzo takes a deep breath and continues. “You have changed my life significantly, and I do not want to know who I might have been without you,” he says. “I have never felt such depth of emotion until I met you, and that is something I would forever desire to keep.” 

Jesse finally reaches over and flicks open the box. He didn’t entertain any real notions of what it would look like, but he didn’t expect the actual intricacy of it. It was a golden band, but delicately etched throughout its entire width was a dragon with all of its tiny scales circling the band twice and ended with the maw of the dragon consuming its own tail. It was an absolutely masterful piece of work. 

“Perhaps I should have discussed the details of this with you first before asking…” Hanzo says, quickly losing composure. Jesse’s silence was unusual and nerve wracking. 

Jesse puts on the ring. Normally they were worn on the left hand, but considering his left was not quite what it used to be, he placed it on his right ring finger instead. The fit was perfect—Hanzo must have measured it while he was sleeping, the sneaky bastard. 

He chuckles and pulls Hanzo forward for a deep kiss. “You weren’t listening darlin’. I already said ‘I do.’ And in my culture, that means yes to the proposal.” 

The low table is pushed to the side and Jesse brings Hanzo up so that he was sitting on his lap. They were face to face, Hanzo’s knees bracketing Jesse’s hips. 

“If I knew you were going to propose, I would’ve prepared something for you too darlin’,” Jesse says between kisses. He nips at Hanzo’s ear and the soft skin beneath his jaw. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Hanzo says breathlessly as Jesse continues to consume him piece by piece with his kisses and bites. Hanzo pushes Jesse back a bit and pulls out another ring from his pocket and places it in Jesse’s palm. 

Jesse examines it and, like his own ring, it was a golden band. Instead of dragon scales however, there was instead a highly stylized wolf, its delicate fur etched into the ring and also looping around the band, its graceful head resting gently on its long tail. 

“An _okami_ ,” Hanzo explains. Jesse places the ring between his thumb and forefinger and slides it onto Hanzo’s left hand. He brings their hand up together, their fingers curling over each other, the golden rings clinking gently. 

Jesse kisses their bound hands with his bristly face. “A union between wolf and dragon,” he muses out loud. “Who would’ve ever thought,” he grins. 

Hanzo pushed him down onto the tatami mat. The rest of the day was spent on the floor with nothing between them but love, the sweet breeze, and the warm sun. 

—-

Hanzo was twenty-six when they had first met, and now he was thirty. Never in his life would he have thought to do something like this, to spit in the face of tradition. 

Even though Gotoh was the official master of the Shimada-gumi, it was only in name at this point. Half of the responsibilities had already been shifted to Hanzo, and he has since proved his capabilities.

Hanzo did not tell Jesse this, but an omiai was arranged for him by both father and the clan elders. A dutiful son would have submitted to the marriage arrangements and allow his elders to pick him a suitable and respectable wife to create a new generation for the future. A dutiful son would have honored hundreds of years of tradition, and bowed when faced under its effacing force. 

But Hanzo had refused to bow. 

Hanzo had always been dutiful in all other respects, and his absolute rejection of the omiai was a serious shock to the elders, though not so much father. 

Although father was sixty-five already, he was not so old as to be blind to the changed lifestyle his eldest led. Jesse was an infrequent but highly distinguishable visitor to Hanamura. After the first year of visitation, Hanzo saw no point in assigning Jesse a sham guest room when it was blindingly apparent why he was in Japan at all, and nowadays the servants just show him to Hanzo’s quarters without fanfare. 

“First the elders complain that my youngest is too wayward of a dragon, and now they complain that my eldest is too prideful,” Gotoh says as he slowly sips his hot tea. “Truly a father would be so blessed as to have sons at both extremes.” 

Hanzo could feel Gotoh’s disapproval. Once upon a time, the thought of disappointing father would have concerned Hanzo and caused him to more strictly regulate his behavior, but after all he’s been through and the experience he’s had with Jesse, there was no doubt in his heart that this was the correct decision. 

“I have already proven myself worthy of continuing the strength and efficiency of our clan, and have done so without complaint. But the omiai is the only one I will refuse to bend on,” Hanzo says, feeling strangely calm. 

Gotoh slams his cup onto the table and the green tea sloshes. “Is there no way I can convince you to change your mind? By doing this, you will turn the elders against you. And what will you do if they strike?” 

He stares at the ring on his son’s finger scornfully. It was not the failed omiai he was truly angry about. “Why did you not ask for my blessing before doing such a thing?” Gotoh asks. 

Hanzo feels a pang of guilt. “I didn’t ask because I did not think you would give it,” he says truthfully. 

“There are formalities for a reason,” Gotoh says, stung. “But you are right, my son. I would not have wanted to give you my blessings for such a fruitless union.” 

Hanzo bows his head, but does not apologize. 

Gotoh sighs and mops up the spilled tea with a cloth napkin. “As I said before, and as I will say again, in the end all fathers must trust in their children. And even though I disagree with your choice, it is not my life and I will not dictate that you end it,” he says. “Besides, even if I commanded you break this union, I’ve a strong suspicion you would actually resist.” 

Hanzo nods. “I would,” he says simply. 

“At the moment, I am the only one standing between you and the wrath of the clan elders. Once I am gone, your stubbornness on this will be tested. Be warned, my son. There is a viper lying in wait, and it might snatch you if you are caught unaware,” Gotoh says. He makes a dismissing hand motion. “Leave me. I have need of solitude.”

Hanzo bows low and shuffles out. Jesse was waiting outside and walked in tandem with him. 

“So how mad was he?” He asks. 

“More disappointed than angry, but he has already accepted it,” Hanzo says. He was relieved to finally get that over with. “There is another _matsuri_ today not too far from here. Would you like to go?” 

“Sure would,” Jesse rumbles, looking down. It was still amazing to see that golden band and he knew he was staring too much. 

It’d be a shame to cover it up with his shooter gloves, Jesse muses to himself sadly. As much as he would like to show it off proudly to the whole world and parade his _husband_ around (how did he get so lucky?), he realized with absolute clarity that it would be too foolhardy even for the likes of him. Reyes already gave him the “dad-lecture” on having a yakuza lover, and if he found out that Jesse went out and got himself hitched to said “crazy fucker with the hell dragons,” that throbbing vein in his head might actually burst. 

But, he thinks to himself with wonder as he links his ringed finger with Hanzo’s, at the very least he could be free about it here in this world they were building together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I am definitely editing these end notes too much. I think I'm finally starting to figure out how to work this thing! 
> 
> This story isn't over yet. There are plenty of story threads that will be picked up in more detail and continued in the next part of this series, as well as probably shorter one-shots/standalone pieces of this world I'm building. Thank you to everyone who has given me your support through either your comments or your kudos or subscriptions (or all at the same time!). Stick around for the next installment! More Overwatch characters will be slowly introduced (:
> 
> Thank you again for reading. Comments and thoughts are appreciated!


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